


Ever Requited

by Roxicodone



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, In Game, Romance, Semi AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxicodone/pseuds/Roxicodone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, set In-Game. Tifa finds Cloud at the train station after five years of wondering if he's alive. When she gets him to join AVALANCHE, they'll embark on a journey that will change their lives. Can Cloud keep his promise to Tifa - or is the voice inside him drawing him closer to someone else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Midgar,** _5:45AM_

It began as any other ordinary day.

Tifa's internal clock snapped her into wakefulness and, for a while, she simply lay, staring at nothing. It was a penchant of hers to _rest_ after waking, finding it soothing somehow, and so she'd trained her body to allow for it. Strange to be sure, she'd told herself a million times, for hadn't she just been resting? And it was always with that last thought that she was up and out of bed, rummaging for her morning run attire.

_Did I have a bad dream?_ she wondered, an odd sense of anxiety beating somewhere along her spine. She slipped on socks and a pair of worn, comfortable jogging shoes next, neatly tying the laces. She couldn't remember the dream, which was strange if it had been an uneasy one. Right? Frowning, she allowed a quick glimpse in the mirror to make sure everything was in place—her, er, generous chest at times didn't constrict correctly— and was out the door.

Habitually, she always jogged the same route, as much a precaution as preference. Preferred because the path she favored was quiet and undisturbed by others. Cautioned because her roommates were familiar with her route and, did she happen to befall any trouble, they would at least know where to start searching.

Not that she couldn't take care of herself. Another motive to take the route through Sector 7, where she resided, and into the neighboring Sector 6, was that she could always find several Whole Eaters—four-legged scorpion shaped creatures that were nothing more than steroidal fly traps—and engage is some combat. Usually traveling in teams of three or four, she'd fight off the same number of packs before sprinting the final mile home. The entire routine was comfortable and potent, and still gave her enough time to shower, prepare breakfast, and wake up her housemates, all before eight o'clock.

Jessie was always the first to be woken up, of course, and Tifa was used to simply barging inside the red-head's room and literally shaking her awake, always finding her clutching some gadget or another. As the technology lead of their anti-Shinra team AVALANCHE, Jessie was notorious for staying up late and diddling with equipment, therefore the hardest to revive from sleep.

Biggs and Wedge were next, their shared quarters directly across from Jessie's room, and they were usually up with a hard knock on the door and the promise of breakfast. One or the other would groan in answer of her summons, and she would leave them to their own devices.

Barret, the leader of their group, shared with his daughter Marlene, a room in the basement of the facility, adjacent to the space of AVALANCHE's main assembly area. Tifa always left them for last, wanting the four year old Marlene to receive as much sleep as possible. With nothing more than a soft tapping on their door, she would return upstairs to begin packing lunches.

It was the only routine everyone in the house shared, and it worked well for them. Breakfast was usually a ruckus, with someone always running late—usually Jessie, for sleeping until the final moment—or arguing over who got to take Marlene to pre-school—usually Barret although his job tended to dictate him to be gone for long periods of time—or who could stuff pancakes in their mouths the fastest—Biggs or Wedge—so they could snatch the final one and march out of the door while someone chorused, "That's not fair! You don't even chew!"

That morning was just a variation of the regular: Jessie made it to breakfast first, hair still dripping wet from a shower, followed promptly by Barret and Marlene, the former grumbling a thanks as Tifa passed him coffee. Biggs was next and piled his plate with more food than Tifa could eat in a day, while Wedge trailed the others by a surprisingly long ten minutes.

"I was up late watching a movie," he explained around a mouthful of—well, everything, and still managed to capture the final pancake to Biggs' incredulity.

After sharing what their days looked like—Biggs and Wedge were off to Sector 3 for some odd, temporary employment, Jessie to her help desk position at a local communications store, Barret to meet with an oil company who might have a more permanent job for him—someone always knocked something over, be it coffee or juice or the box of cereal Marlene preferred, and that seemed to draw an end to their fast breaking. Someone else, usually whoever had spilled the day before, mopped things up and then, with a kiss from Marlene, everyone was gone, lunches in hand.

Being that it was Tuesday, it meant inventory day for Tifa and 7th Heaven. Tuesdays were the slowest days at the bar, allowing her time to thoroughly take stock and plan out meals for the following week, and she relished that time nearly as much as her laziness after waking. Once she was complete there, she had to prep for the hour 7th Heaven was open for lunch, before cleaning up again, and preparing for the bar's regular hours at 10PM. After clearing out breakfast, she grabbed a clipboard and some paper and got to work, trying diligently to ignore that tiny flicker of unease that was still lingering.

Hours later, with the lunch rush having come and gone, she thought maybe her anxiety had to do with a meeting she had that afternoon at Sector 0, the Upper Plate. Luc, a contact of Barret's who'd helped AVALANCHE with intel on several occasions, had gotten her a meeting with a representative of Icicle Inn Spirits. Icicle Inn Spirits was the only distillery on the Planet that distributed the exclusive Modeoheim Moonshine, and if Tifa were able to secure a contract with them, she could possibly afford to send Marlene to a private academy above the plates, where the four year old would see more sunshine than the few hours she did on their Sundays play dates. It was her foremost worry, that Marlene didn't get enough of the sun and stars and would become trapped in the slums, and Tifa wanted to be able to provide more for her, so much more.

Shaking her head to refocus, she admitted she didn't usually worry overmuch about meetings and money—she'd never had much of either—and so it made that glimmer of anxiety misplaced. Except she could think of nothing else that could be causing the unease. _What else could it be?_ she frowned, and brushed a hand over her heart in an attempt to soothe the worry there, before making her way to her bedroom. It just…it felt like her heart was being tugged, as if something elusive was drawing near…

Her room was the only one located on the main floor as Jessie, Biggs and Wedge commandeered the entire upper level. Forged off a corridor past the storage room, her quarters had been built as a bonus area, almost as if the original architect had only decided upon the space at the last moment. It was large, big enough she was able to keep a desk and small seating area, and it housed a private bathroom too. That space alone had helped concrete her decision to buy the bar.

Deciding she wanted to look smart, but not overly dressed for her appointment, Tifa put on a pair of slim black pants and a gray cotton t-shirt, which she neatly tucked in. For good measure she dug out what she deemed her only business-like attire: a tailored white blazer. A once over in the mirror showed her looking minimal but neat, along with her loosely pinned hair. Satisfied with her image, she gathered some gil, PHS and keys, along with the small list of questions she'd scribbled, and made her way to the train station.

The trains that circulated the eight slums ran every fifteen minutes, at all hours of the day, although there was only a single train that took residents to the Upper Plate. That train, nicknamed the High Car, only traveled once an hour and only began late in the afternoons, ending with a final run at 7PM. Private transportation to the above plates was available, but expensive, a luxury that usual slum residents couldn't afford. The wealthier, Upper Plate didn't enjoy allowing slum residents a place in their society so if you lived within the slums, you were usually forced to work there as well. By limiting the travel of slum workers to the Upper Plate, it kept the poverty-stricken in poverty.

Shinra, along with Midgar's Mayor Domino, made sure of that.

It was just another reason on the endless list of reasons why she despised Shinra.

Frowning at her thoughts—Shiva, she could feel lines forming from all the frowning she'd done that day—she arrived just in time to catch the High Car and slid easily into one of the empty seats.

 

* * *

The meeting with the Icicle Inn Spirits representative turned out to be a triumph, if the generous order and promised shipment of Modeoheim Moonshine she'd secured was of any indication. She'd been pleasantly surprised, to say the least, for she'd been prepared for a battle. Having dealt with her share of self-important assholes who didn't just frown at her for owning a bar, but also treated her like some half-witted female, she'd been primed for an attack.

Not that she really gave a whit what anyone thought, couldn't care less about the opinions of strangers, but she'd learned—after having delivered several nose-shattering hits to groping agents and losing network opportunities—that she would have to maneuver around their idiotic levels of thinking. Her ultimate goal was to obtain alcohol for her bar and get gil in her pockets. More gil meant better things for Marlene.

The agent, a huge man at 6'6" with a loud, booming voice, had seemed to fall into the category of those biased individuals she loathed. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing running a bar?" he'd asked as they'd waited for their coffee, and Tifa had quickly started to tense. How would she need to play this? Stupid girl, big dreams? Flirty girl, no money? Sad girl, alcoholic?

"You should be married to a fine young man and raising children," he'd continued and shaken his head at her. Then, startling her completely, he'd given her a wallop on the back that would have felled her had she not been seated. "I like you already, Tifa!" he'd grinned with a confirming head nod.

The rest of the appointment had gone from there, in that blunt, friendly fashion, and even while squabbling about gil, they'd gotten along easily. He'd been married twenty-three years, he'd shared with her, with three kids in college and a dog named Dog. He'd grown up in Icicle Inn, but was from Banora originally, where he'd met his wife. The entire family vacationed to Mideel once a year, where they owned a plot of land, and the kids always complained about it not being Costa Del Sol.

Tifa wasn't surprised at his sharing; she was a bartender, and good one to boot, and people liked to share things with her. She didn't know if it had to do with the fact that she was attentive and actually listened, but everyone, big or small, old or new, always made confessions to her. And in return, she never, ever, shared confidences.

She'd wondered, more than once, if she should have become a priest.

The sound of a mechanical voice announcing her stop had Tifa rising to her feet. It was already dark but she still had plenty of time to get home and ready dinner. And she felt good, very good, pleased with the results of her day and excited at the prospect of the moonshine drawing more customers. It really did mean more funds to set aside for Marlene, growing the measly thousand gil she'd currently had stashed away. And Shiva knew she'd been hoarding that money since she'd fallen in love with that gorgeous little girl so many years ago.

As the doors of the train slid open, she stepped off onto the platform and automatically scanned the area, eyes taking in her environment. It was precarious place, the slums, and the train station in general, with thieves and lurkers always on the hunt. She could dispatch them quickly, sure, but that didn't mean she was looking for trouble.

She spotted a couple embracing in reunion not far off to her left, and couldn't hide a smile as the male of the pair was unceremoniously lifted off his feet, then spun. A few teenagers were purchasing rides at the ticket booth, and not far off from them, she could make out a man seated on the ground with his back against a lamppost. There was an older woman standing between his outstretched legs and seemed to be attempting to haul him to his feet. As Tifa watched, the woman dropped her purse in the process, spilling the contents out onto the dirty, station floor. Giving the area another quick sweep and finding no immediate threat, she stepped forward to offer her assistance.

It must have been that quick, slight turn in her gaze that triggered it, but suddenly, her eyes were caught by a flash of golden, spiky hair, peeking briefly from behind the woman's form. Her heart gave a sudden violent kick in her breast and Tifa found herself frowning for the millionth time that day. She'd only ever known one person with hair like that…but it couldn't be. It simply couldn't be.

The prickly discomfort she'd had since the morning traced down her spine, and her heart _tugged_.

No, she refused to believe. She'd been fooled before, she knew, many, many times before, simply by a flash of that shining, gold color. Her heart would jerk just as fiercely inside each time and whenever her eyes focused on the cause of the gold, it would plummet just as fiercely to her stomach.

Because it had never, ever been what she'd needed it to be.

Shaking her head to clear its thoughts and ignore her disquiet tension, she hurried over and collected the woman's fallen items, depositing them back into her handbag as the woman managed to rouse the man to his feet. They swayed dangerously, and Tifa quickly stepped forward to balance them, sliding an arm around the man and hastily dropping the handbag again.

"I've got him," she murmured before the woman suddenly jerked away, allowing the man's entire staggering weight to descend on her. She yelped and braced her feet, arms instinctively locking around the man for balance.

"Hey—" was all she got out before feeling a hard shove—and falling over into a mess of arms and legs.

"I'm sorry, young lady," the woman was saying, having grabbed her bag and was already shuffling away. "I didn't know he was yours. I just wanted some company and didn't think he'd mind. I didn't steal anything either. I'm sorry," she finished. And then she was gone, vanished beyond Tifa's sight.

Tifa, head oddly angled beneath a broad shoulder and her hair _everywhere_ , could do nothing but blink.

_What in Shiva's name had just happened?_

"Great," she sighed heavily, tossing her head as much as she could beneath the shoulder it was pinned. _Damn it, hair_ , she thought, emitting a blow at her bangs. It was then she slowly became aware of the fact that she was spooning a complete stranger on a dirty, cement floor; her legs were straddling lean hips and her arms were still locked tight around a muscular chest. Heat rising in her cheeks, she mumbled an apology and abruptly let go, thanking Shiva that at least the man hadn't landed directly on her, had somehow fallen a bit beside her instead. She'd taken most of the impact, sure, jarring her entire left side—s _hit, her white blazer!_ —but her head hadn't met cement and for that she was grateful.

"Excuse me," she said, tapping the man politely. Well, as politely as she could with her knees gripping a his waist and that fact that she'd more or likely petted a hard stomach when she'd tapped him. "Excuse me, sir? Would you mind shifting a little so I can rise?"

No answer.

"Sir? Hey, can you hear me? If you could just move a bit, I can help us both up."

Silence.

_And what could possibly be more awkward than this?_ she sighed to herself. He was probably some unconscious drunk who'd sat down to sleep off his intoxication and here she was, wrapped around him on the cold floor of a now empty train station.

She wriggled experimentally then, feeling as if she were crawling out of the top of a zipped sleeping bag, and was careful not to get her hair caught. Stupid long strands, always managed to get tangled into something and she didn't need it to be knotted around that pauldron he wore...

Her thoughts trailed off as her gaze connected with a head of golden, spiky hair that had always reminded her, of all things, Chocobo down. Yet there it was, right in front of her, those brilliant, gravity defiant locks that she'd only known one person in her entire twenty years of life to have.

But it couldn't be, she told herself, heart pounding erratically. She'd been tricked before, had tricked herself before…

Scrambling now, she shifted mightily and managed to slide her upper body free, leaving her legs trapped beneath his immobile form. Breaths coming in short, painful gasps that had nothing to do with her tumble to the ground, she stared at the profile of the man whose face was turned away from her…pale skin, heavy lashes, sharp cheek bones and solid jaw…As if in a fog, her motions unusually jerky and uncoordinated, she reached and slowly, slowly, shifted the man's features enough so that she could define a face.

_Cloud Strife_ , her pounding heart seemed to shout, and she could only stare.


	2. Chapter 2

Tifa wasn't sure how much time passed. An hour, two, five, she didn't know. The clamor of footsteps and voices and laughter went on around her, muted as if coming from a distance, shuffling and moving before being hauled away in the scream of steel against steel. And still she sat, her only movement the rise and fall of her chest.

He looked…the same, so much the same. Time had matured his features, sharpened his straight nose, honed his once fuller cheeks, angled that stubborn chin and yet every facet was still so much the same. Her fingers trembled, moving tentatively along his jaw.

" _Come this spring, I'm leaving town for Midgar."_

" _All the boys are leaving town."_

" _But I'm different from them…I want to join SOLDIER…I probably won't be able to come back to this town for a while."_

" _Hey, let's make a promise…If I'm ever in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me…Come on! Promise me!"_

" _All right…I promise."_

It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself any thoughts of her past, of him. _Does he still exist under this sky?_ she remembered asking those same stars where that childish pledge was made. How naïve she'd been, how young and bright-eyed, wishing for the safety of the boy who'd promised to be her hero. She missed that stupid, foolish girl.

Those first few years after he'd gone to join Shinra, she'd scoured for any details of him, reading through countless newspapers, lurking on military and Shinra websites, badgering a stranger in a uniform for even an allusion of news.

And nothing. She'd found nothing, not a single word of his life—or his death.

It was the latter that had kept her hope burning. If they hadn't announced his death, that meant he was still alive, didn't it? Every day for two years she'd forced herself to scroll through the pages and pages of dead military personnel that Shinra posted. And when she would reach the end without the appearance of his name, the knot in her heart would finally uncoil and she could breathe again.

She'd only stopped searching for him after the destruction of her hometown.

_I hate you! I hate Shinra! I hate SOLDIER! I hate you all!_

Memories began to assail her, flipping and flashing like scenes from an old reel of film: eyes a shade of blue she fought to capture by rubbing her own too roughly, jagged mountains that peaked white at its tip, black hair on a friendly monster. There was the whip of an obsidian cape, a bitter green gaze that bled destruction, and red, so much red, red that spiraled into flames and red that formed pools and red that became her fists, her cries, her pleas, her own—

The roar of a train billowing past jerked Tifa from her reverie and she blinked rapidly, dissolving the images of fire and swirling smoke. She found her fingers clutching violet cloth.

 _Focus,_ she chided herself, and took a shuddering breath.

"Cloud?" she finally said, testing his name. Though her voice was quiet, the word had come out more confidently. She hesitantly cupped his face with both hands and shifted to better cradle his head in her lap. How long had it been since she'd spoken his name, she wondered absently, moving them both under the glow of the lamppost. In the heavier lighting, she took note of the sallow tint of his skin and the darkened shadows beneath his lidded eyes. Her memories of him had always included pale skin but that yellow hue… _He looks sick_ , she thought.

Ifrit, she hadn't even checked him for injuries yet. Was he hurt, was that the reason he was unresponsive? He didn't smell like booze, she reflected after sniffing experimentally, and he was dressed in a violet, nearly black SOLDIER uniform. If that was anything to go by, it meant Mako infused. Which meant difficult to get drunk. And stay drunk.

"Cloud?" she tried again, listening for a response. "It's me, Tifa. Do you remember?" She paused again, patiently. Nothing. "I'm going search you for injuries. I'm an EMT, was certified a few years ago in case something happened to my friends and we couldn't get to the hospital." Keeping her voice calm and level, she slid out from beneath him to begin her examination, making sure to talk him through the steps of her assessment.

She began with his head, nimble fingers pressing firmly along his skull and through that mass of spiky hair, finding the strands soft and supple. _Also like Chocobo down_ , came the amused thought. She was relieved to find no head gash or offending lump. His upper body was next: muscular chest, hard stomach, broad shoulders, strong arms, all of which greeted her with no immediate injuries. It was…awkward to say the least, learning the contours of his body while he lay unmoving, even through the fabric.

She hesitated briefly before attacking his lower half, uncertain of where to begin—or where to end. Wouldn't it just be grand if she were patting around his groin and he decided to, er, participate? Not like _that_. She was no blushing virgin—certainly not a slut with only two under her belt but being young in a big city after losing everything she'd loved and known in a single night didn't an untroubled youth make.

Muttering to herself, she started at his feet and worked her way up, feeling, searching, finding only sinew and strength. He was covered in dust and smelled not so good— _definitely_ ripe—but nothing was bent or twisted or protruding oddly.

"Ok, all done, with no obvious external damage," she sighed in relief. Squatting beside him thoughtfully, she rotated her sore left shoulder and let her eyes drift back to his passive features. Pale, nearly ashen, gaunt. Even in slumber he looked troubled, so much like what she remembered of him as a youth. His countenance had matured but it was still Cloud. The only thing that was missing was the glower of those restless blue blue _blue_ eyes.

Why she couldn't think of another word to describe their color, she didn't know. She missed that nameless blue.

It was then, as if he'd heard her wistful thought, his eyes opened.

His lids didn't flicker or flutter, didn't give any indication that he was waking. She told herself later she would've been better prepared to meet his gaze had that been the case, but instead it was suddenly lifted lids and glowing eyes trained on her own.

And instead of piercing blue, they were pulsing green.

She didn't realize she'd started to scramble away from him until she came up hard against the side of a nearby bench, reminded too sharply of another pair of similar green. Gods, those weren't Cloud's eyes. They didn't welcome or offer, didn't ask you to come home. They were bleak, filled with affliction, terrifying. Fear and panic curled inside her, hard and fast, trapping her even as she reflexively began to tense in defense and attack.

A stranger with a familiar face.

Would he hurt her? How? Would he reach over and grab her, strike with those heavy fists? She'd noticed the impossibly large sword that was within range of his long reach. She was fast, she could make an escape. She could hide, knew the slums as no one else. Except, if he had any Mako in his veins, even as ill as he looked, he could catch her easily. She'd listened to hundreds of tales from patrons at the bar about the extraordinary speed and unmatched power of a SOLDIER.

Ah, Shiva, she was going to have to punch him in the head and make a run for it.

Except…he didn't really look like he was seeing her. Though his eyes were open and locked on hers, they seemed dim and unclear, and that green in his gaze…It _moved_ , furled and beat and skid. It wasn't malevolent like the ones in her nightmares, were more conflicted, turbulent. And as that green spun, with it were pools of azure and cobalt and navy.

Her gasping breaths hitched and she hesitated. She could—that was Cloud in those swirling depths. It sounded wholly stupid but she could _feel_ him. Uncertainty quivered as she stared. Was she just seeing what she wanted to? What she needed to? Was she projecting what she hoped to find because he was her last desperate attempt at keeping ties with her past?

She attempted to find her voice. "Cloud?" she ventured. It was the closest thing to a plea she'd uttered in years. Gaia, it was even the same word.

Something flickered in those depths, a blink then the attempt of focus. She watched, fists taut and ready to strike, as he slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. Each motion was measured and even. His gaze never wavered.

The roar of a train sounded behind her, whether in warning of a departure or arrival she wasn't aware. Loud voices, a squeal of excitement, an announcement of closing doors and destinations. The feel of blustering wind sent discarded newspapers and empty shopping bags spinning as the scratching sounds of metal screeched and sped away.

A departure then, she thought absurdly.

The silence stretched between them, loud and empty without the din of activity from others. Green waves rolled, centered, flooded with confused blue and she wondered distantly if she looked as crazy as she felt.

* * *

— _eyes are chestnut and wine. They are endless pools of liquid and he won't look away, is afraid to look away, doesn't want to. It's always so hard to stop looking into them because …he thinks they might want to look at him too._

_They make him feel better. They help turn down the static that is buzzing in his head._

_They say his name, those eyes, shining fierce and fear both. They ask him and he—_

* * *

"Tifa."

To say she was startled was an understatement; hearing her name suddenly in his deeper baritone slackened her jaw and felled her, literally. She'd been half crouched, half seated on her haunches and poised to flee and ended up on her rear, heat in her face.

They'd been staring in silence for endless minutes, long enough that another train flew by. He'd seemed to be struggling with something, gaze shifting from emerald to cyan to azure, and she'd wanted to find the words to speak except something had stopped her. Asked her to wait.

And then he'd said her name.

_And she'd blushed._

She did not consider herself timid. To her, bashful belonged in fairytales. She'd developed thick-skin from five years of living in the slums, not to mention the fact that she owned a bar. Slimy assholes from liquor distributors didn't have exclusivity to leers and gropes and she evaded grasping hands daily. Even when she decided to flirt with a man, heavy with innuendo, it was only as a form of entertainment, a passing fancy or pastime. She'd grown immune to developing red cheeks.

Then she'd heard Cloud say her name. _And she'd blushed_.

Deep and resonant, his voice had caressed the two syllables as if they were sweetly prized, sending a shiver down her spine and her lips to part. It had felt like the stroke of his hand. _And she'd blushed_. That made three times that day. Three!

Worst, he didn't even seem 100% conscious.

"Tifa."

 _Damn it_. Color flooded her cheeks and she latched on desperately to the question in his voice, looking away for the first time in what seemed like hours.

"Yes, it's me," she replied and wet her lips. She let her mouth form a small smile and sheepishly met his eyes again. "You remembered." Pause. She swallowed and moved toward him slowly, concern drawing her brows together. "How do you feel?"

He remained silent, watching her approach.

"Does it hurt anywhere? Are you dizzy at all?" She raised her arm unhurriedly, giving him time to refuse her touch if he was so inclined. Gently, she rested her hand against his forehead, searching for fever. She'd forgotten to earlier.

When his eyes became heavy lidded an instant after her touch, a bolt of panic shot through her. Was he fading again? Gods, she had to get him home first! It was nearly a mile back to the bar and she would _not_ be able to carry him the distance. She increased the pressure of her hand, tipping his chin as she snaked the other to cup the back of his head.

"What is it? Are you feeling lightheaded?" she demanded. His skin was cool to the touch. Moving quickly, she locked gazes with veiled cobalt—now only rimmed with green—while her hands adeptly folded down the turtleneck of his sweater until his throat was exposed. Bold fingers traced for a pulse.

Strong and steady, it beat beneath her fingers. "Does it hurt anywhere?" she repeated, worrying over the way his pupils dilated though they were round and equal in size. "Are you experiencing any dizziness or faintness?"

Silence.

Troubled, she crawled closer to him, her knees pushing into his thighs, pressing her torso against the side of his arm. "Cloud, you have to talk to me so I can help you, all right?" Wanting to soothe him, the fingers against his throat stroked in comfort. She ignored the bolt that seemed to shoot through her at its intimacy.

"Tifa."

She stifled the quiver that wanted to escape and frowned at him. He was going to have to stop that.

And she needed to get him home. It was getting late and she didn't want to have to fend off attackers in the dark; even with all the Mako Shinra was pumping with their reactors, they were greedy with their spoils and kept the public areas of slums dimly lit at night, with long stretches of black. The day was a different story; during day hours, the unbound rays from the sun was used to solar power all the sectors.

Grasping his shoulders, she spoke to him earnestly, concern sharpening her words.

"It's getting late," she began. "I'm not sure what happened to you or what you're doing here. I don't know if you're waiting for someone or something, but I'm worried about you and the slums are not a safe place." She looked closely into his eyes, trying to convey her words with her gaze. He'd seemed to respond to that earlier. "Will you come home with me? I don't live far and we'll sort this out once we're in a more secure place. You'll be welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

* * *

— _hair is tousled, dark and thick and loose, with heavy bangs that bevel and fall over her forehead. Her features are small and soothing, a heart-shaped face with slightly upturned nose, delicate chin, fresh and rosy mouth. Her brows are furrowed, arching above those expressive eyes. So this is beauty, he thinks, and shimmering carmine wants him to go._

_No, they want him to stay._

_Yes._


	3. Chapter 3

The journey to 7th Heaven was slow and thankfully uneventful. Tifa managed to coach Cloud to his feet—how the hell had that little old lady gotten him up?—and stagger back home, one of his arms draped across her shoulders while her own was wrapped firmly around his waist. He'd been alert and able to start, but had begun to weaken with each step, letting her take on more and more of his weight. It had become a struggle of sorts at one point, because she could feel him trying to resist the urge to lean on her. With grim determination, she'd deliberately kept him off balance, knowing she was, at that point, the stronger of the two.

She brought him to the bar entrance, certain someone would be home. Softly, she murmured to him that they had reached her bar while she knocked on the door, digging her fingers into his side to keep him upright. His brow was dotted with perspiration, pallor increasingly white, and she wanted to get him to a bed as quickly as possible.

"We're not open yet," came a muffled voice from behind the heavy door. "Come back later. Hours are ten to midnight on Tuesdays."

"Biggs, it's me," she called back, adjusting her hold on Cloud. He'd begun to lean against her heavily, and she was terrified of dropping him again. "Hurry, can you open the door?"

The scarred wood swung open a second later, and Biggs' cheery face greeted her. "Owners don't have keys or someth—" He stopped midsentence, blinking. "Whoa, Teefs. I think there's a man about to fall on you."

She hissed at him. "I can see that, Biggs. Can you help me get him to my room? I think he's fading again."

"Again?" Biggs asked but moved to grab Cloud's free arm.

Together, she and Biggs half carried, half dragged Cloud to her room, carefully laying him on her bed. She ended up collapsing face down beside him for two quick breaths—how the hell far did that little old lady think she was going to get with him?—before extracting herself. She peered down at him worriedly.

His eyes were at half mast, mouth tight from exertion. She used the sleeve of her blazer to dab at his dampened brow.

"You know, Teefs," Biggs was saying all the while, "I don't think you needed to knock this guy out to get him into your bed. You probably could have just asked him and he probably would've sacrificed his grandmother in thanks."

She glared at Biggs, but he just looked on thoughtfully. Turning, she spoke to Cloud in a soft voice, reassuring. "Hey, we made it. Let's get you comfortable, ok? I'm gonna loosen some of your uniform so you can rest easier. Will you let me put the sword next to the bed?" She recalled how he wouldn't budge until she'd helped him strap on his sword. Taking his hand in hers and wrapping them both along the handle, she slowly placed the sword against the wall beside the headboard, careful to show him that it was still near and within reach.

"Seriously though. Who's that blonde in your bed?" Biggs snickered. "Heh heh. That sounds like a bad joke."

She sighed and began unbuckling clasps and fasteners. "He's my friend, Biggs." Gently, she removed his harness and pauldron before starting with his gauntlet and gloves. "I know him."

"He's your friend? I've never seen him before. Are you sure?"

Good question.

Her AVALANCHE family didn't know much of her past, not even Barret, whom she was closest to. Jessie, Biggs and Wedge had all grown up together and so were open and candid about their pre-AVALANCHE lives. She and Barret—well, they were less than inclined to share.

"We were friends before I moved to Midgar," she said now, setting his gauntlet and boots beside his sword and tossing his dusty gloves into her laundry pile. "I saw him at the train station and he looked sick so I asked him to come here."

And he still looked ill, although less ashen now that he wasn't pushing too hard, and his breathing was evening out. She rose from his side and made her way to the bathroom, dampening a rag and returning.

"Before you moved to Midgar? You know, you never said where you were from, Teefs. Is he from there too?" asked Biggs as Tifa gently mopped Cloud's face. She murmured an apology as he flinched at the touch of the cool cloth and gently brushed the back of her fingers down one pale cheek in consolation.

"He's gotta be unless you mean, like, you knew him way way _way_ before," Biggs was still going on, "like a previous life and stuff. It's like that video game where these warriors from other worlds are sent to war and their memories have been erased but there's this one bad guy who remembers this girl from his world and she's his enemy because she's a good guy but he still protects her from his ally even though that ally is the _real_ bad guy and to top it all off _she_ doesn't remember _him_ but _he_ still wants to protect her…"

Tifa glanced over at Biggs with an indulgent smile and began shrugging out of her jacket, wanting to inspect her shoulder. The throbbing was relentless at this point, and she wondered how it looked. She allowed Biggs' chatter fade into the background as she sighed over her ruined blazer, now streaky brown instead of pristine white. Could she get rid of the stains? Most likely not.

"…and then as he's dying he begs—yeah, _begs_!— for his last wish to be granted and all he asks for is that the girl is saved," Biggs was concluding, finally taking a breath. "He must love her a lot if she's the only thought that's left while he's dying. I think his final word is her name."

Tifa, who had no idea what on Gaia he was talking about, made an interested noise and rolled up the short sleeve of her t-shirt, wincing. The surface of her entire left arm was already starting to discolor. Which probably meant her hip, sorer than her shoulder, was most likely purple.

"…and so he smiles like he's gonna say yes but instead says 'not interested' and walks away like a _boss_." Was Biggs still talking about the same game? He couldn't be. Didn't he say something about the hero-slash-villain dying? "And I think it's because he's on his way to meet the girl he saved, the one he loves."

"That's nice, Biggs," she answered faintly, one hand smoothing over her yellowing arm before she frowned at its tenderness. She must've landed harder than she'd thought.

"So what happened?" Biggs was asking, gesturing to her arm and Cloud.

"I fell," she explained vaguely, purposely dodging his question. "Is anyone else home?"

"Everyone except for Barret," Biggs replied, hands in his pockets he peered curiously at Cloud, whose eyes never shifted from her. "He called a while ago and said he got a gig out near Junon, wouldn't be back for a week or so. Didn't you get his message?"

Crap, her PHS. She'd had it in the pocket of her blazer. Releasing her arm to grab the discarded garment, she dug until she found the slim phone—and gave a disappointed groan to find it crushed.

Biggs whistled at the flattened pieces. "I guess you didn't. I'll give it to Jessie to fix." He held out a long hand.

It was the second one she'd destroyed that month, which was better than Barret, she supposed as she dropped the mangled pieces into Biggs' palm, who was up to four. "Thanks."

Her stomach growled loudly then, reminding her she hadn't eaten since before the lunch rush. Glancing at her bedside clock, she realized it was half past eight. The bar was scheduled to open in under two hours and she had nothing prepped for the evening. She supposed it was a good thing it was Tuesday, and closing the bar for the night only meant a two hour loss. Resigning herself, she looked up at Biggs.

"I think I'll leave the bar closed tonight," she told him. "It's the slowest day of the week anyway. Did everyone eat already? Marlene?" Gods, she hadn't even seen Marlene.

"Yup, we all had some of that left over stew you made," Biggs answered and patted his stomach in appreciation. "You're best cook, Teefs. It's no wonder I'm so—healthy. Jessie made sure Marley ate everything and I think she's about to take a bath. They were worried you weren't home yet."

She usually bathed Marlene after meals, but nodded, grateful for Jessie's help. "I'm sorry, it just couldn't be helped. But I'm starving now. Do you think you can get everyone together in the kitchen real quick? I just want let you all know the situation about my friend." She glanced over at Cloud as she said the words, and met swirling cyan.

"Ok." Biggs left the room, bouncing on his feet as he departed.

She turned back toward the bed then, noting how dark blonde brows were furrowed as if in query. He must be starved too, she thought, rubbing her side unconsciously. Wistfully, she wished for a hot shower to help soothe aching muscles and seated herself at his hip. The shower would have to wait until after she'd scrounged up some dinner for them both.

"That was Biggs," she said in way of explanation, wanting to reach out and smooth the line between his brows. "He lives here too."

Silence was his response.

Which wasn't a shock. Other than her name earlier, he'd spoken nothing else, not a single sound. If she hadn't heard those spine tingling "Tifas", she would have thought he'd loss use of his vocal chords.

Would it be all right if she touched him again? She had a strange, what she called "affliction to be naturally affectionate," finding it easy to dole out hugs and give a friendly pats of encouragement or brush her lips against cheeks in appreciation. Her parents had taught her that physical contact was the easiest way to show kindness and so she'd kept the practice alive as much as possible.

Reflectively, she studied him as closely as he seemed to be studying her, and was pleased with the way he'd seemed to have relaxed. At the station, he'd been tense all over, muscles strung tight like a bow. The half hour trek to 7th Heaven had been made with taut limbs, each sinew strained for balance. Laying back against her dark bed sheets as he was now, he looked less rigid, even with that air of vigilance.

Contrary emotions were warring inside her: surprise, confusion, fear, speculation. How had he ended up in the slums? How long had he been at the train station? What happened to him and was she able to help him get well? Could she keep him safe? Gods, she had so many questions.

As children they hadn't been close—but she had considered him a friend. He'd never been a part of her core group of friends— _any_ group of friends, for that matter—but she'd often find him lingering at the edges, quiet and considering.

There had always just been something about him that had drawn her, something about his solitary figure and that spark in his azure eyes, as if he knew where he belonged—but wasn't sure of his welcome. She would sometimes catch him watching, as much as he was now, and she'd never quite been able to look away. Those blue eyes were magnets for her own, pulled her as nothing else. Even as a child, she'd felt—found in those eyes.

Another embarrassing rumble of her stomach interrupted her thoughts.

Succumbing to the temptation of touching him, she reached forward to smooth a stray lock of gold from his temple. "You're communication skills are unmatched," she told him quietly. "I can barely get a word in edgewise. It's no wonder you don't know that I'm going to leave you here to get some rest while I find something for us to eat." She rubbed her eyes tiredly, gently rotating her left shoulder before she rose to her feet. "I'll be back before you know it," she finished and quit the room.

* * *

In the kitchen, she found her housemates, each of them seated at the round, scratched table they used to eat dinner out of sight of the bar. Marlene was dressed in pajamas and slippers, her dark head damp from her recent bath, and she ran over to hug Tifa as she entered. Small arms encircled her legs.

"Hello!" Marlene exclaimed, pressing an absent kiss to her thigh. "I missed you today. You didn't come home in time for dinner and then we tried to called you on the PTOLBSHJ but you didn't answer and Jessie said you probably broked it."

Tifa smiled, crouching down to scoop the little girl into her arms. She was a pretty little thing, a runt, really, and far too clever for a four year old. "I missed you too, sweetheart, and Jessie was right, I did break the phone. How was preschool?"

"It was 'k'," Marlene answered. She'd begun a rating system for her school days, a ploy Tifa had developed to help Marlene with her alphabet—clearly needed as POEQCVGHXFR or whatever letters the girl had spouted, were many off form the three lettered PHS. "K" was essentially a five on the Richter scale.

"'K' is good, but let's shoot for a 'Z' tomorrow, all right?" She pressed a kiss to a bubble-gum scented brow.

"All right!" Marlene agreed, and rested her head against her shoulder—her _good_ shoulder, thank Shiva.

"Hey, Teefs," Jessie greeted her. She gestured to a bowl of steaming stew and the crust of bread beside it. "I warmed up some leftovers for you. Biggs said that you were keeping the bar closed tonight?"

Tifa blinked at that, for Biggs was usually less than subtle; she'd been prepared to be bombarded with questions regarding a stranger she'd brought home. Shooting Biggs a surprised look, she said, "Thanks, Jessie, and yes, I'm gonna leave the bar closed." Carefully as not to jar her hip, she sat herself down on the chair Marlene had vacated, rearranging the child in her lap. Jessie pushed the bowl toward her.

She pressed her cheek against Marlene's damp curls for a second, indulging in the love and trust the four-year old bestowed on her. She had never thought she'd fall in love with a dark-haired, dark-eyed angel by the name of Marlene, love her so much she would do anything to keep her safe.

"So, Teefs," came Wedge's rough baritone, catching her gaze. The man's voice sounded forever rusty. "Biggs said there's a man in your bed with a giant 'sword'." The last word was accompanied by finger air quotations.

She'd known it was too good to be true and glared over the top of Marlene's head at the other three adults in the room, each one of them wiggling their brows at her.

"I ran into a friend at the train station today," she told them, using one hand to rub comforting circles along Marlene's back, the other to stir the steaming contents of the bowl. "He looked sick and I asked him to come home with me so I could take care of him. I hope that's ok." No matter that she owned the building they lived in, it was still their collective home, all of them. It was only fair she would have to ask if Cloud could stay—even if she didn't know what she would do if they refused.

"Sick?" Jessie asked, tilting her coppery head. "Sick like how? Like the flu?"

"Sick like flesh eating zombie disease?" came Biggs thought.

"How do you know him, Teefs? Is he from your hometown?" Wedge chimed in, repeating Biggs' earlier questions.

Using the excuse of cooling a spoonful of stew with her breath, she pondered whether or not to share with them her suspicions. How much pain, for them and her, would they keep having to carry? How much of her past was she willing to reveal? And how much of Cloud's, for that matter, the little of it she did know and the conclusions she'd drawn on the quiet trek home with him. Each step they'd taken had brought with it a wealth of questions, none of which had yet been answered.

And her friends—no, her _family_ , they deserved the truth, all of it. But was she ready to give them all of it?

So she hedged. "Yes," she answered slowly, "he's from my hometown. I've known him since I was a just a bit older than Marlene. We…we sort of grew up together."

"How old is Marlene?" said Biggs.

"Where's your hometown?" Wedge asked.

"Was he your boyfriend?" Marlene inquired.

"'Sort of' grew up together?" Jessie queried.

As the only other female of their group, and sharp as a whip, the red-head usually caught on to what Tifa liked to think of as her diveromiss tactics, a melt of "diversion" and "omission" all rolled into one that worked well on most people.

"I was five when he moved in next door, although he'd lived in the same town all his life as well." She would give facts but exclude specifics, she decided. And it didn't entirely have to do with her and what she felt comfortable sharing, it also had to do with wanting to protect Cloud. Until he was better, until she'd talked with him, she would share only on a need-to-know basis and spare the details. "We lived next to one another for a long time, even though we weren't really friends. I haven't seen him in five or six years." Five years, ten months, and seventeen days. "And no, sweetheart, he wasn't my boyfriend," she answered Marlene's question with a small smile.

"Well he's stupid then," Marlene declared, ever her defender.

Tifa gave a squeeze. "Maybe. In any case, it's time for bed. I just wanted to tell you so you're not scared if you see my friend walking around. He's resting now or I'd introduce you." She pressed a kiss to damp hair. "Jessie, would it be all right if Marlene slept with you tonight?"

Jessie raised her brows in query, but nodded. "Of course the monster can sleep with me. I need a monster to keep the other monsters away." Tifa knew she was only half joking.

But Marlene giggled to hear it, her breath warm, and that was all that mattered.

"You heard Jessie. Off to bed now. Good night, sweetie, I love you."

"I love you too, Tifa," she returned, before she wiggled free and scrambled off.

As soon as Marlene was out of earshot, Tifa explained, "I know I usually sleep with her when Barret's gone, but I don't want to leave Cloud alone, at least not yet."

Jessie nodded. "All right, that's fair. And I don't mind, I love Marley. But that's beside the point. Tell us what's wrong with your friend. Maybe we can help?"

This time Tifa's hesitation was longer, her heart filled with an ache. She didn't want to share her suspicion, not this one. It would hit too close to home for her friends, reopen wounds she knew they struggled everyday to keep closed. And Cloud…how would she keep him safe?

The three of them had grown up in the slums, although not all together until the latter part of their lives. Jessie was from Sector 1, Biggs and Wedge from Sector 4, and they'd met in middle school, bonding over their love of technology and electronics.

In their sophomore year of high school, Shinra sent a team of inspectors to examine the Mako reactors in each of the 8 slums, a routine ordinance that everyone was accustomed to. The agents would arrive, asses the various channels and pumps that ran through the slums, then knock on a few doors to survey residents, asking about power stability and any out of the ordinary surges. The whole practice usually lasted three to four days, things happening amicably.

Except that something had gone wrong.

A pipe had burst and caused an outpouring of Mako in Sector 4, sweeping away some of the Shinra appointed delegates, one of whom was Jessie's brother. The sudden spray had also leaked Mako into a few of the nearby public housing residences, including where Biggs and Wedge lived with their families. Somehow, through the mad flood of panic and disorder that followed, Jessie's brother was retrieved and revived. And with a fancy sham of a concern, Shinra had offered condolences by way of small, financial restitution and "cleaned up" the affected houses, declaring the incident a "horrible accident."

Residents started becoming sick soon after, violently so, the sting of pure Mako too intense and severe for their bodies. Within the month, thirty-two residents were dead, including Biggs' entire family save for his father. Wedge's family managed to survive another week before succumbing.

Not that any of that had mattered. In an attempt to cover up the event, Shinra sent in a team of SOLDIERs to quickly and quietly dispatch the remaining residents of the homes that the Mako had disturbed. They'd disguised the execution of the survivors under a large white tent and had called it a "follow up cleaning." Biggs and Wedge, who had somehow survived the Mako illness, had been at Cosmo Canyon when Shinra had arrived, and had escaped the execution. Biggs' father had not been so lucky.

The pair of them had been on the run since.

Jessie's brother was treated at the hospital and released—but returned changed, becoming nearly mutated. His barely ate, skin began molting and turning gray, and he was severely aggressive and physically abusive. Jessie would frequently appear at school with fresh bruises and limping. As the only other child of two older parents, she did her best to protect them, frequently defending them when her brother became violent; they could not afford to house him at a psychiatric ward and the endless pleas to Shinra for help went unanswered.

He'd died a few months later. The official cause of death was listed as starvation.

Tifa couldn't count the number of times Jessie had crawled into bed with her, needing to be close to someone. She would at times find Biggs and Wedge on the floor of their room, asleep with their backs against one another. All of it, each time it happened, broke her heart a little bit more.

And she dreaded the answer she had to give them now. There was no way she could circumvent this question and they deserved the truth. It was the only fair, if difficult, thing to do. Swallowing a large spoonful of stew, she confessed her suspicions. "His eyes—he has Mako eyes."

"Mako eyes…" came Jessie's soft echo. Without looking up, Tifa could see the color draining from the red-head's face.

Suddenly without appetite, Tifa set down her spoon and looked up, sorrow filling her voice as she admitted, "Yes. I think he has Mako poisoning."


	4. Chapter 4

The silence was deafening, filled with tension so thick Tifa could swear it was palpable. Jessie's face was white, her eyes wide and unseeing while Wedge shifted uncomfortably beside her and wouldn't meet Tifa's gaze. Biggs sat still as if Petrified, both hands balled into fists where they lay atop the scarred wood of the table.

"I found him unconscious," Tifa began quietly, knowing how important her next few words would be. If they protested Cloud's presence, what would she do? Would she abandon him? Would she leave with him? Where would they go? "I managed to get him up from where he'd fallen and we sort of—stumbled home."

"How…how do you know it's him?" came Jessie's whisper, her voice tight and Tifa could see her fighting her memories. "When was the last time you saw him? How can you be sure? I—my brother—"

"Oh, Jessie," Tifa interrupted, and shot around the table to close her friend in a hug.

Jessie's breathing was harsh. "My brother, he wasn't the same. He was so different, looked the same but he wasn't and then he didn't look at _all_ —" She shuddered in Tifa's arms. "How, Tifa? I can't—please tell me, how do you know?"

"He said my name," Tifa answered. "He didn't say anything else but he looked at me and he said my name. It's not like your brother, Jessie, not like that. He…" She swallowed and forced herself to finish, to hurt not just Jessie but Biggs and Wedge as well. "He's wearing a SOLDIER uniform."

"Wait—what?"

Tifa looked over at Biggs. Although usually just as mellow as Wedge, he was far more volatile when provoked. "He's wearing a standard SOLDIER uniform," she repeated.

"How could I have missed that," Biggs whispered to himself, eyes darkening before they sharpened and he demanded, "What the _fuck_ , Tifa? You brought fucking _SOLDIER_ here?"

Tifa forced herself to release Jessie and flinched, not because Biggs was angry, but because she could hear the pain and betrayal in his roar. _I did that_ , she thought, and felt her throat tighten. "Biggs—"

"What the fuck were you thinking?" the taller man yelled over her, jumping to his feet and over turning his chair. "That we need more of a challenge? That it's not enough that Shinra killed everyone we loved, they need to finally kill _us_?" His long arm swept the table, sending discarded food and dishes everywhere. "Didn't you join AVALANCHE _because_ of Shinra and the shit they did and yet now you've invited one into your home? If that's not shitting where you sleep, I don't know what it."

"It's not like that—"

"Then what the fuck is it like, huh? You know our story, Tifa, you _know_. We shared our stories with you, bled when we did so you could have a reason to believe in us and our cause." His voice was harsh, burning, and he leaned over the table to stare unblinking into her eyes. "Did they mean anything to you? Do _we_ mean anything to you?"

Tifa could feel her heart squeezing, constricting in her chest as she forced herself to return Bigg's stark gaze. "Yes, of course you do—"

"Then how could you do this? How could you bring Shinra here?" Hoarse and pleading, his voice was bleak. "My family died, Tifa, then they killed my dad, executed him. Not just my father, because I was too young to think of him as a 'father' but my _dad_ , someone who was kind and peaceful and never hurt anyone. Wedge had to watch his three year old sister die, right before his eyes, could do nothing to prevent it. And Mako eyes…Jessie was beaten every day for months by someone with Mako eyes. Every day. She thought Biggs and I didn't see, wouldn't notice but we did. We just wanted to let her have her pride, wanted to let her know it was ok to pretend as if nothing was wrong when she was with us because she couldn't once she was home."

The sorrow crowding her chest was awful, thick and heavy and choking. Aching, Tifa reached across the table and placed a soft hand on Biggs' shoulder, the other finding Wedge's. "I'm so sorry, Biggs," she whispered, throat raw. "I'm so sorry for what they did to you, to all of you, to all of _us._ I never, ever want to hurt any of you and I'm so sorry that's what's happened."

"Then why?" The question seemed torn from Wedge, whose voice was shaky, puzzled. Usually tentative and timid, his pudgy face was pinched, brows drawn together and low over his eyes. "I-I thought…you cared about us. I thought they hurt you too. I don't understand…"

The knot in Tifa's gut coiled, pulling tight. "They—they did hurt me," she agreed, dread curling her shoulders. "Just like you they took away the things I cared about."

"What things, Tifa?" came Jessie's soft voice. "You've never told us, never talk about it."

Tifa felt her mouth tighten and carefully masked her features. "I know."

"Tifa, we need to know, we _deserve_ to know," Jessie stated, and rose to her feet. She met troubled eyes. "You would never knowingly jeopardize Marlene's life, I know that. But you might not be thinking clearly in this case. Let us in. You have to. If you want him to stay, you owe it to us to give us a reason to let him."

Tension stretched tight across her spine, Tifa inhaled sharply, knowing Jessie was right. But she couldn't tell, not all of it. Not yet. _She'd_ barely had time to process the fact that part of her past was still alive.

"I…I'm from a small town," she began slowly, carefully choosing her words. Truth without specifics, she reminded herself. "It was just a country town, next to the mountains, nothing big or fancy. One day Shinra came and just—they burned the whole town, everything, just set fire and watched it all burn. My mother had already died when I was younger but my father was still alive and…they killed him when he tried to stop them. I got hurt too, trying to do the same thing but my sensei, Master Zangan, he rescued me. He brought me here to Midgar while everything that I'd ever known… my home, every single friend I'd ever had, my father…my entire life died that day."

"Oh, Teefs," Jessie whispered, and she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, much like hers on Biggs' and Wedge's.

"Cloud…Cloud left town to join SOLDIER before all that happened," Tifa continued, brows drawing together. "I never heard from him again, thought he'd died too even though I'd hoped—and then I _found him_ —" She felt her breath hitch, a sound like a sob escaping her. Ah, Shiva but she'd _found him_. It hurt to say the words, scalding her, and she couldn't understand why.

And she refused to cry. She _wouldn't_. She hadn't cried since Master Zangan had abandoned her alone and desperate and aching for anything familiar when she was fifteen.

"He hasn't said anything except my name since I found him," she continued after taking a deep, calming breath. "His eyes glow with Mako, then fade to its original blue and...I can see him fighting it. I just…I want to help him get better. I would never abandon a friend." She looked up, asking. "Please."

Jessie peered at her, assessing, while Wedge turned away in discomfort. Biggs' eyes shone blatant with refusal.

"He's the one you dream about," Jessie murmured, and Tifa felt her hands tighten, flexing on tense shoulders before she let go and clasped them in front her.

She couldn't deny it; she too, fought nightmares and sought shelter in a vanished hero. "Yes," she admitted.

"You don't know him anymore, Teefs," Biggs held, shaking his head and turning away, much as Wedge had. "You don't know what Shinra might have done to him, how they changed him."

He was right of course, and she couldn't refute that either. "You're right, I don't," she agreed, "but shouldn't I be allowed to find out? Shouldn't he be given the chance too?"

"It's Shinra, for Ifrit's sake!" Biggs exploded with fists clenched. "He's the enemy, in our home! You don't know what he's capable of, you don't know how much of him is left! Is he still even the boy you remember?"

Tifa could feel her stomach clenching as Biggs continued to mouth her every fear.

"What if we let him stay and he goes back and informs Shinra who we are, where to find us? What do you think will happen? Mako and SOLDIER and Shinra _changes_ people, warps them. They destroy lives. They've already destroyed ours once. Are you going to let it happen again?" Heavy fists slammed onto scarred wood. "What if he leads them back here and they kill us? Kill Marlene?"

"Stop it," Tifa whispered, trembling. Gods, oh gods…

But Biggs was beyond her pleas, sneering at her with naked pain in his eyes. He needed her to hurt, to realize she what she was asking of him, of all of them. "Better yet, what if _he_ kills us and _takes_ Marlene? What then? What the fuck is a four year old going to do against SOLDIER? Throw her godsdamn dolls at him—"

"Biggs—" Wedge interjected, placing a calming hand on his best friend's arm.

But Biggs shrugged him off and leaned forward, much as he had earlier, and looked at Tifa with menace in his eyes. "No, Wedge, she needs to hear this. C'mon, Tifa, tell me what little Marlene should do when everyone she knows is dead, killed because someone she loved decided to trust the enemy? You want her to lose everything too? Just like you, you want Marlene to have everything she loves die? It hurts you so much you need to hurt her too—"

The blow Tifa struck was bone shattering, one drawn fist that knocked Biggs off his feet and flat on the floor, nose bleeding profusely and broken in more than one place.

"You don't get to test my love for Marlene," Tifa spat, shaking so hard she could barely recognize her voice. "There is nothing on this Planet worth more to me than her smile and her happiness. You can say whatever you want about me but never, _ever_ question my love for her or I will break more than you fucking your nose. You've been warned." Turning, she met Jessie and Wedge's shocked gazes.

"Cloud's too sick to go anywhere tonight. We'll be gone in the morning," she told them, and swiftly left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

"Tifa, wait—"

Tifa heard her name called but didn't stop, instead continued to her bedroom. Her hands were trembling, muscles taut as if tensing for a blow and her stomach was knotted and twisting. She was sorry, so sorry, so sorry…she hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. She was a monster, everything that Biggs had accused her of being.

"Tifa—"

She hadn't meant to hit Biggs, truly she hadn't. But it had hurt too much to hear someone doubting her love, filled her with defiance. Her love for Marlene was the only thing that remained pure inside of her. Marlene was everything good, everything cherished, everything worth anything in her fractured heart.

Gods, but it  _hurt_ , was all consuming as the anguish snaked low in her belly. How she hated the impious voice that said everything she loved would be broken. And that she would be the cause to break it.

Biggs had voiced her ultimate fears and she had attacked him. How could her love for Marlene still be untainted if everything else was sullied and ash? She knew nothing of Cloud, nothing of the five years he'd been gone. She'd kept him alive in her heart by dreaming of his promise and pretending that a pair of blue eyes would someday welcome her home.

She was selfish, so stupid and arrogant to think that she could have protected them all.

She was no hero; she was the villain.

Sticky fingers grasped her arm as she reached for the knob of her door and spun her around.

"Tifa, stop, please," Biggs pleaded as blood streamed down his face unchecked. His eyes were wet, regret unconcealed. "I-I didn't mean it—I'm so sorry. It just—it still hurts so much…"

She waited a single heartbeat before wrapping her arms around her friend, blood be damned.

She felt him stagger, much as Cloud had, and she tightened her hold, ignoring her sore shoulder. She would somehow hold him together. She might not be a hero but she could offer temporary refuge.

Biggs shuddered in her arms, hissed and sobbed before he sagged into her. "I didn't mean it, Teefs. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to hurt you too, because I hurt so much. I didn't mean any of it. You're the best of us, the best of all of us."

"Shh, it's all right, Biggs," she offered, chest burning.

"No, i-it's not." He quaked, hiccupped, drew back his head to look into her eyes. "It's not. I-I didn't even give you a chance to explain, just went on the attack and…I know that you would never bring someone home who you thought might hurt us, much less Marlene. We want you to stay." He returned her hug fiercely, squeezing her tight. "Forgive me. I-I know and  _everyone_  knows, that you're the mother of her heart if not of her flesh. Please don't go. I'm sorry."

His words did nothing to unravel the bind in her stomach but she didn't need it to. It was her own faults, her own demons, and she wouldn't deny him forgiveness.

She knew the bitter taste of condemnation.

"Oh, Biggs…" She gave him a tremulous smile and released him, wincing at his bloody figure. "Thank you for that but…I can't take you seriously while there's blood pouring from your orifices."

He snorted at that, just like she wanted, returned her smile. "What's more serious than blood?" he quipped. He lifted the hem of his ruined shirt to staunch the red flow. "Ah, shit, it hurts. I guess it's only fair that if you broke me, you'd have to fix me too. And don't apologize," he added as she opened her mouth to do just that. "I deserved it. I'm surprised you held back. Wedge was expecting a Biggs shaped hole in the wall."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed, leading him back toward the kitchen. "Well, we can't always get what we want."

* * *

The house was dark and quiet, strange for a Sunday evening when the bar was usually open and customers were milling about. Tifa didn't mind and found comfort in the silence. It was a rare thing for her to close the bar early on a Sunday and she couldn't  _not_  savor it, couldn't help but embrace the stillness and calm. The previous week had been taxing as she tried to balance AVALANCHE and the bar and Cloud and Marlene. She was exhausted.

As the architect of their organization, Barret had left with them their next mission: the bombing of the Sector 5 Reactor. As the smallest of the eight reactors, they'd initially bypassed destroying it, thinking it would only cause an annoyance and not the kind of damage they sought. But Luc had reported that the Sector 5 Reactor purportedly pumped 80% of the Mako used by Shinra Headquarters, the brain of all the Midgar reactors. By eliminating the plant, it would handicap Shinra HQ long enough that AVALANCHE could essentially dismantle several other reactors—in a more peaceable fashion. Using scribbled explanations that only Biggs could decipher, Barrett had strategized a design that would essentially cripple the facility.

Jessie and Wedge got to work immediately on the design of the bombs and technological details, leaving Biggs to graft, engineer and analyze the operations portion. That had left Tifa with logistics.

Besides being an informant, Luc was also their primary equipment supplier, and Tifa immediately asked Jessie to get in contact with him. Tifa liked him, enjoyed his dry humor and quick smile, and there was an aura of mysteriousness about him that was electric. Tall and lean with icy blue eyes and windswept black hair that always seemed to be obscuring his vision, when he came to 7th Heaven, he stayed for a while, at times bunking in the AVALANCHE meeting space downstairs.

Marlene, thank Gaia, had been a doll all week, playing with the neighborhood kids or reading quietly. While the bar was open, Tifa would sit her in a corner booth and intermittently play a board game with her. She winced as she recalled how she'd succumbed and let her watch several hours of television one day. With everyone up to their elbows in mission details, they couldn't help Tifa watch her—and Tifa had to make sure Marlene was occupied or the four year old would see more than she should.

Picking up the serving tray she'd prepared for Cloud, she used her elbow to snap off the kitchen light and moved toward her bedroom.

Cloud was the final aspect of her busy week. He'd slowly been getting better but still hadn't spoken and his eyes had remained that dim, unseeing cyan. She found it positive he was responsive to her prompting, though he slept frequently, deep and motionless, as if he hadn't slept in years; she would awaken from her cot across the room to check on him, and wonder if it was good or bad that he slept so hard.

Everyone had stopped by to get a look at him too, Biggs and Wedge arguing about whether or not they could lift his sword, Jessie teasing Tifa about possibly letting her take a turn at "making him feel better," and even Marlene, who had been unusually shy, though she'd spent part of one day drawing at the desk to keep him company. Still, he was looking less pale and colorless. She'd even managed to get him bathed twice.

In her first attempt, she'd kept him fully dressed in the t-shirt and shorts she'd borrowed from Biggs, and had sat him in the tub. She'd hemmed and hawed the entire time, hoping he wouldn't feel violated as she ran soapy hands  _over_  his clothing, her lame attempt at modesty. He'd been shivering once she'd finished, and getting him out of the wet, sticky clothing had been its own trouble. After apologizing profusely at seeing his blue tinged lips, she'd vowed to never to try  _that_  again. She'd always hated laundry anyway.

That morning had been the second attempt at getting him clean, and she'd decided he should try a shower. Stuffing him in the stall with only boxers on, she'd turned on the water and, again, made an attempt at modesty by staying on the other side of the curtain, awkwardly reaching in to wash him while avoiding the slap of the plastic screen. After soaking the floor and herself and nearly drowning him twice, she'd simply stripped down to her undergarments and climbed in with him.

Modesty wasn't her strong point; although she didn't flaunt her assets, she certainly didn't hide them either. Besides, it wasn't as if either of them could  _do_  anything.

She smiled as she remembered the crowded stall, recalling how blue his eyes had been and his dazed expression as she'd washed them both, almost as if he was aware of what was going on and was in disbelief. She had to admit, it had been amusing; she'd chattered playfully the entire time and laughed at herself, confessing to him it was her first shared shower and wasn't it sad that she could only get a man who was nearly catatonic to bathe with her?

It had been…distracting, though. She'd tried not to wonder too hard about the scars she'd found and tried not to gawk too long at his lithe, fit body. She'd forced herself to remain at his back, staring determinedly at his broad shoulder or the back of his knee, depending upon where she was washing him. Of course she'd, er, lingered a bit when she'd run the soapy wash cloth across his lean hips and chiseled stomach and hard chest. He was  _finely_  made…

Berating herself at such lascivious thoughts, she opened her bedroom door and softly shut it behind her with a muffled click, latching close. She looked immediately to the bed to see if the noise had disturbed the figure lying there, but he remained still, lying prone against pale bed sheets.

With soft footsteps, she padded to his side and set the breakfast tray on the nightstand, careful not to spill the steaming soup. She'd made the meal heartier this time, with meat and potatoes, though she was still wary of feeding him anything too heavy.

A glance at the bedside clock told her it was after midnight, much later than she had anticipated returning, especially after having closed the bar at ten. But she'd been determined to clean everything, get everything put away and in its place because she had plans to sleep, really  _sleep_  that night. She'd been trying to survive on three hours a night and things were starting to get blurry.

"Cloud," she said now, and seated herself at his hip. The bed dipped, causing dark blonde brows to furrow. Gently, she shook his shoulder. "Cloud, I brought some food. Will you have some? I promise you can rest again once it's done."

He came awake slowly, lids fluttering, his eyes fully blue but for the slightest glowing rim of green. Mako eyes. They could see in absolute black, she'd been told. They could discern objects five times further than the average eye, distinguish an item miles and miles in the distance as if it were mere feet away. Hazy and sluggish, they locked on hers.

She'd almost gotten used to the power of those eyes. Almost.

He always looked impossibly young and innocent when he first awoke, vulnerable and boyish despite the green tint of his eyes and the sword beside him that belied all that. She wondered again at all the things he must have seen and endured, the tasks he'd been dealt as SOLDIER. Had he allowed Shinra to lead him blindly? Had he followed their command without the thought of consequences? Did he have regrets and were they as deep and sorrowful as her own?

"Hey," she greeted him, resisting the urge to trace fingers along his jaw. "I have some food for you. Nothing fancy, although this time there's protein." She smiled encouragingly. "Wanna sit up and I'll feed you?"

Azure eyes blinked at her, considering, and she could swear he was finally seeing her.

She slowly reached past him to rearrange the pillows, building a wall of sorts for him to prop against, and was very,  _very_ conscious of the fact that his warm body was only inches from her own. Her elbow grazed his shoulder, the back of one arm brushed by his ear, and she could feel his breath against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. It brought back memories of them in the shower, and while she had tried not to focus on how absolutely intimate the episode had been, it hadn't escaped her that she'd had her hands nearly all over him.

Her breathing was patchy once she was satisfied with her arrangement, her neck tingling. "Umm," she began with thoughts scrambled, settling back at his hip once more. She could feel him watching, always watching, still watching. Her own gaze flickered uncertainly to meet those blue depths, once, twice, paused.  _Drowned_. Gods, he had the bluest eyes, blue blue  _blue_.

She could remember the first time she had looked into them,  _really_  looked into them. She'd been five or six at the time, still whole and happy with two doting parents and nothing but untied shoe laces to worry about. Mrs. Strife and Cloud had been living in the neighboring space for just a few months, and although Tifa had been aware that there was a boy about her age living next door, she had never played with him. Sure, she'd seen him—who could miss those blonde spikes?—but he'd never knocked on her door or called to her from outside her window to come out, as all the other kids did. He was never a part of the children who chased one another in the town square or caught butterflies and grasshoppers in the fields before the mountains.

As an adult, she realized she'd taken a lot for granted. She'd never really understood why the kids sought her out—she only knew that they did. She'd never questioned why Johnny or the boy whose parents owned the general store often lingered and wanted to keep her attention. To her, it simply  _was_. Other kids always wanted to play and she'd just assumed, because she always wanted to play too, that it was all happenstance. It had never occurred to her that it was her  _specifically_  they'd wanted to play with.

During one of those occasions while playing hide-and-seek with the neighborhood kids, she'd found herself holed up in an empty wooden barrel somewhere, one the of the many around town used to collect rain water. How she'd gotten there or why she'd chosen to hide there she couldn't remember, just that she'd somehow jumped in—and couldn't get out.

The drum had been a bit taller than her, standing about four feet high, with a mouth opening that was wide enough for her to slip in, but too narrow for her arms and hands to find purchase and climb out. How long she struggled and called for help, she wasn't sure, only knew she was getting more and more frustrated—and scared.

"Hello!" she remembered calling through the single eye the barrel contained before pressing her own eye against it. All she could see was green grass, leading to the mountain path beyond.

"Hello, can you hear me? Is anyone there?" Each unanswered plea had brought her closer to panic, feelings of helplessness and hopelessness becoming more pronounced. Even then she'd hated crying; she didn't want to cry, hated the way it hurt but she could feel the tears threatening. "Hello? I'm in the barrel! Can you hear me? I need help."

Her only answer was a chirp from an animal far in the distance.

Defeated, she'd managed to count to ten before letting out a miserable sob.

She'd been half way through a third when a shadow had fallen over her, blocking the beat of the sun that had begun to burn her uncovered arms. Confused but hopeful, she'd abruptly ended the foolish sniffle and looked up—and into the bluest blue blue  _blue_  eyes she'd ever seen.

"Are you ok?" the owner of those blue eyes had asked, blond hair sticking up every which way.

She couldn't remember answering, could barely remember why she'd been upset in the first place, her only thought was how those blue eyes were the color of hope and would forever remain her favorite.

Somehow they'd gotten her out of that drum, though the how of it escaped her memories. He'd pulled or he'd pushed or she'd climbed or she'd rolled until they'd eventually tipped the barrel without breaking her neck and she'd crawled out. She remembered thanking him and smiling, remembered announcing her name to him and blurting how she knew his, remembered trading with him a high five for his help. She remembered how serious he'd looked the entire time, how quiet and reserved and accepting. And oh, how he'd thoroughly charmed her when he'd shyly smiled and said only, "You're welcome, Tifa."

Blue was still her favorite color.

"Let's…let's get you sitting," she said now, looking away and fussing to help him to sit up. How foolish she was, getting flustered over his vacant stare. Gods, she'd probably drop trou if he ever  _really_  looked at her.

She talked quietly as she fed him, a routine she'd developed after the night of that terrible fight with Biggs. She'd found it…soothing, the talking, even though he probably hadn't understood a word she'd said. She'd felt as if her load had lightened the tiniest bit when she'd finished.

It was the strangest thing.

Distractedly, she quieted as she recalled that fight again, still stricken that things had gotten so out of hand but proud because they'd gotten through it.

While she'd clean-up Biggs—he'd howled as she'd realigned his misshapen nose and had finally accepted her apology—and Jessie and Wedge had cleared up Biggs tantrum of tossed dishes and food, they'd talked quietly, calmly, though with no less tension in the room. She'd ended up with Jessie curled at her back, the red-head's face pressed into her shoulder, and Wedge and Biggs each gripping her hands.

"We all know that Shinra hurts people," she'd begun, trying to find the right words. "We all have been hurt by them, including Cloud. Don't forget that my hometown was Cloud's too. Imagine having left everything you knew to join SOLDIER and then to find that they'd destroyed all that you loved? We were hurt by Shinra but we weren't a part of them, not like him. If we were, it would have been like—like we killed them all ourselves."

Her voice had faltered then, struggling. "It's been a long time since my hometown turned to cinder, and I don't know what Cloud did during that time. Did he know about it? Was he a part of it? I won't know until I ask, until he's better. Think about how I found him, unconscious, weak and poisoned. Shinra did that to him to. How many stories have we heard, how many SOLDIERs have we seen take hits that could fell buildings and still rise and dispatch an entire army? And yet Cloud could barely stand today. He trusted them and he was betrayed. He was all alone—and now he has me." She'd drawn a jagged breath, looked up and vowed, "I won't let them take him again. I won't."

"I don't want him to hurt you," Jessie had whispered. "My brother…he had Mako poisoning too and he was nothing like the person I remembered. He was just—just a  _monster_."

"I don't think it's like that, Jessie," Wedge had interjected hesitantly. Tifa could see his quick mind working. "If Cloud is SOLDIER then he would have had Mako infused into him. He would have had to sort of 'earn' the rights to have more Mako injected, which is how they developed SOLDIER classes: first, second, third. Well, SOLDIER Mako wouldn't have come from a reactor, was probably drawn from pure Mako, which isn't toxic, per se, just condensed power."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when you hacked into the Shinra mainframe for the Sector 1 Reactor files and there was talk of pure Mako versus what they called retained Mako or 'R-Mako'? The Mako from that burst pipe was R-Mako, used as backup to fuel Midgar. And R-Mako is diluted with stabilizers and inhibitors, like benzophenone and hexamethylenetetramine. While benzo is primarily used in photo development and hexamine reduces corrosion—"

"Uhh, Wedge, you're geeking on us," Biggs had interrupted.

"Oh." Wedge had scratched his round cheek. "Sorry. The point is, pure Mako doesn't kill but inculcated Mako does—because Mako  _enhances_. It's used as the catalyst. That's why Mako springs are seen as cleansing and restoring, and how materia is created—with untainted Mako." His brows furrowed. "Biggs and I were exposed to the R-Mako but only residually, because we weren't there for the spill. Everyone else came into direct contact with it, and was probably saturated with it for a while. I think it took Shinra more than a week to clean it all up."

Biggs had jumped in, "Yeah, that's right, because they stuck us in that boarding house and wouldn't let us go back. I'll give this much to Shinra: they at least tried to keep it contained, and they even did a good job of sterilizing it afterward."

"Probably in fear of something like my brother happening, except in mass production," Jessie had added thoughtfully. "Ok. I understand."

"I'm only asking if Cloud can stay until he gets better, until there are answers," Tifa had explained, because although she had to protect Cloud, she had to protect her home too. "He doesn't have to know about AVALANCHE and what we do. We can just be a bar to him, like we are to everyone else."

When Biggs and Wedge had shaken their heads, she'd tensed, ready to flee.

"No, Teefs," Biggs had said. "We trust you. If he has you, then he has us. And that means he can stay as long as you want him too. Although I can't say that using the bar as a screen isn't a bad idea."

"I concur," Wedge had agreed. And with a nod against her shoulder from Jessie, that had been that.

She worried now, about how Barret was going to take the news. She imagined his reaction as explosive as Biggs, possibly more so with his hot temper. Maybe she'd be a coward and tell him over the phone? Send a text or leave a voicemail? "Hey, Barret, just wanted to let you know that I'm letting SOLDIER stay with us. Did I mention he's sleeping in my bed and I let Marlene sit alone with him for awhile? No worries, though, he's unconscious."

She sighed.

As Cloud finished his meal, she could feel exhaustion settling over her, weighing her limbs and lids. So tired, bone weary. Since coming to Midgar, she'd never slept more than two or three hours straight but could at least string a few of those sessions together each night. The past week had been too filled with activity for rest, and all she wanted was to keel over and forget the world for a while, even if it was in a cot on hardwood floor.

After returning the dishes to the kitchen, she came back and quickly prepped for bed. A rapid wash of her face and brush of her teeth, a cursory braid of her hair—she  _hated_  waking up tangled in it—and she was in her pajamas and exiting her bathroom. She hastily bedded Cloud down again, making sure he was covered by the quilt, and was glad to see he was already getting drowsy once more. Snapping out the lights, she crept into her slightly uncomfortable if beckoning cot and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

The sound of restlessness woke Tifa, slowly tugging her from sleep.  _What is that?_  she thought sluggishly, opening her eyes. She could hear rapid breathing and the scratch of fabric on fabric, swift and sharp.  _Was that Cloud?_  Blearily, she sat up and turned toward the bed.

She could just make him out in the flickering light that the lamppost outside her window offered, see him moving as if in a struggle. Alarmed, she crawled out of her cot and tried to shake off her grogginess, moving to snap on the tiny lamp at her desk before she made her way to his side.

"Cloud?" she asked, blinking to try and clear her blurry vision. A glance at his face showed his eyes drawn firmly shut and perspiration dotting his brow. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she found him with fists clenched and mouth tight as his chest heaved. He was inhaling and exhaling so loud the sounds were nearly echoing in the room.  _What did they do to you?_  she wondered, aching for him.

_"...legacy...for both of us...live for both of us..."_

"Cloud?" she asked again. What was he whispering about? She reached for him, stopped before she made contact. Should she touch him? He'd never had a nightmare under her watch before and she was unsure of how to approach him. Jessie usually woke up choking for air and Barret swinging. It was a testament to Master Zangan that she had always managed to duck or block his blows.

Brows drawing together as she watched Cloud fight an unseen enemy, she reached for him again, placing a tentative hand on his rapidly rising chest. She repeated his name once more, hoping to soothe and sank down beside him on the bed. She tugged at the quilt to make room.

He seemed to still at her first touch and the sound of her voice so she continued to croon to him, rubbing circles along his chest, much as she did for Marlene. They were nonsensical words she uttered, but as his breathing deepened and his lips relaxed, she was glad such words existed. Gaia, she'd nearly put herself to sleep. With one last stroke of his chest, she rose from his side, that stiff, thinly lined cot calling her once more—

Only to find herself jerked back suddenly, forcefully, by a strong grip on her wrist. She found herself seated on the bed again with an ungraceful thump, her hand once more pressed firmly against his chest.

"Hey—" she started.

"Tifa," Cloud interrupted in a low, rough voice, fingers tightening.

She blinked to hear him speak, though her name from his mouth no longer surprised her, and she peered over at him in surprise. "Ahh—yeah?" she answered stupidly.

Silence.

She rolled her eyes. She should've expected that. Shaking her head, she tried to tug her hand free.

"Tifa," he said again, nearly growling and she frowned this time, even as something hot and shivery shot through her. Damn it all, was she blushing again? This had to stop.

"Ok, I'm not sure what it means that you can only say one word," she muttered, attempting another withdrawal. She received a defiant squeeze. "It alarms me that the word you know isn't 'help' or 'bathroom' or even a curse word. It's a name. Imagine if someone else had found you and you 'Tifa'd' them."

Silence. Again.

She sighed heavily, resigned, and instead of trying to pull free, she began to rub his chest again in that soft, soothing fashion she had before. He would release her, she was sure, and as soon as he was asleep, she'd crawl away. Besides, it  _did_  feel nice, rubbing his chest. He was warm, and smelled pleasant, like her soap and shampoo but also something—masculine and distinctly  _him_. She'd gone to the market and purchased him some clothes the other day, and the t-shirt she'd chosen was soft and heathery, silky to the touch.

Slowly, she began to doze, her hand motions coming to a standstill as she shut her eyes and promised just a little rest. She was tired, so tired, and the draw of his warmth and smell was intoxicating. She needed to sleep, wondered if she could make it back to the cot before she faded. She wasn't sure she had the brain power to turn off the desk lamp. With long yawn, she twisted her wrist between his relaxed fingers, testing—only to feel him clamp down once more.

"Tifa," he murmured, the sound husky and drowsy, like a caress.

It was her turn to growl. "Fine," she mumbled. He wanted her there? Great. She'd missed her bed anyway.

With clumsy, uncoordinated movements, she climbed over him to the empty space of the bed near the wall, careful to keep her hand planted on his chest so he was aware she wasn't leaving. There wasn't a pillow there, but that was fine, she would deal with the crick in her neck in the morning. Wiggling, she squeezed herself beneath the quilt and curled up beside him, too tired to question how good it felt to lay flush against his side, and was instantly asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of a door snicking open woke Tifa and she fuzzily forced one heavy lid up, eyes—er,  _eye_  automatically moving toward the door. Sleep blurred vision showed the flick of a red pony tail followed by the appearance of a waist high dark head before the door snapped shut, sounds of shuffling feet and muffled giggles trailing. She blinked at that, sluggish mind struggling to restart.

_I must have overslept_ , she thought groggily, and couldn't help but indulge in a drowsy smile. It had been over a year since she'd done that, and only then because she'd been up the entire night previous. Marlene had been sure she'd died and had screamed bloody murder upon finding her still in bed. Barret had come charging in, arm blazing, and she'd never moved so fast as to snatch Marlene up and nearly decapitate Barret with a roundhouse upon his arrival.

_It's just so warm and comfortable_ , she sighed and closed her eye again. It was pleasant a change from the past few nights spent on a hard, cold cot—

_Oh, sweet Shiva._  Her eyes shot open as the previous nights events came flooding back.

Slowly but surely with dawning horror, she became aware that she had somehow  _literally_  wrapped herself around Cloud during the night. She had one hand still lying prone along his chest, while the other was snaked around the bicep of his arm closest to her, and she was cradling it against her middle. A haphazardly thrown leg across his hips, bent at the knee, a wiggled a foot beneath a muscular calf, and her mouth pressed firmly against a hard shoulder concluded her utterly shameless invasion of his space.

The best—oh, Gaia, maybe the  _worse_?—of it was that Cloud seemed completely unaware, was still in his same position, flat on his back and motionless but for his breaths. Even his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.

She nearly groaned aloud, disgusted with herself. Could she scream "desperate cuddler" any louder? With a heavy, defeated sigh that rustled the cotton of his t-shirt, she proceeded to detangle herself. His only response to her movements, thank Shiva, was a quick tightening of his fingers before he released his hold and she scrambled toward the bathroom.

When she finally joined her housemates in the kitchen, it was past eight, almost time for everyone's departure. Jessie openly grinned at her as she walked in and poured herself a mug of coffee, though it seemed Biggs and Wedge hadn't yet been told of her brazen activity, and Marlene greeted her with a happy, "Good morning, Tifa!"

"Good morning, sweetheart," she murmured, and shot Jessie a warning glare.

"So Teefs. How'd you sleep?" Jessie asked, unrepentant.

Before she could answer, Marlene chirped, "In bed with that man,  _duh_. We _saw_  her."

Biggs' ears picked up on this instantly and he stopped shoveling cereal in his mouth long enough to ask, "What?"

"Yup," Marlene answered. "Jessie and I went to waked her in case she dieded and she was cuddling that man in her bed."

Tifa remained silent, nursing her coffee. She refused to blush.

It was Biggs' and Wedge's turn to grin at her. "Oh yeah?" Wedge encouraged.

"And he was just lying there while Tifa was hugging him."

Oh, gods. She felt the heat creeping up her neck. "Marlene—"

"Aaaaaand," Marlene continued over her, "he had his face in her hair like he was smelling her. Isn't that right, Jessie?"

The red-head nodded. "Right up in there," she agreed with a wiggle of her brows.

"I bet she cuddled him to make him feel better because when Tifa cuddles me I feel better." She glanced up at her Tifa, brow furrowed. "Maybe next time you can let him listen to your heartbeat like I do. I bet he'd like that. It's soft there."

"Oh, I'd bet my first born he'd like some of Teef's softness," Wedge smirked.

"I could use some softness," Biggs added thoughtfully. "'Course, it might become hardness."

Tifa whacked the back of Biggs' head as Jessie started laughing and Marlene looked on with confusion.

"Get out of here, you four," she reprimanded, grabbing the lunches she'd prepared last night and handing it to them. She hugged Marlene swiftly. "Never you mind them, darling. I love you and have a Z today. Jessie, remember to pick her up, ok? She's got a piano lesson after school so I can't make it."

"No probs, Teef."

The little girl kissed her cheek, everyone waved, and then they were all gone.

* * *

It turned out to be a hectic afternoon at 7th Heaven. The lunch hour was busy, a bit more so than usual due to a train delay, and she found herself out of nearly all her meals save for a portion of a casserole and some pasta salad. Time stopped mattering after a while and it was after two before she managed to flip the door sign to "Closed."

She thought ahead to the rest of the day. There was an AVALANCHE meeting scheduled just before the opening of the bar that evening, and Barret was due to arrive home sometime before midnight. Luc had promised to drop by too, and she pondered where he would sleep; the cot he usually occupied was currently on the floor of her room.

She was in the midst of mopping the bar when something prickled at the back of her neck and she paused, listening. Instincts honed by years of living in the slums, the sensation that something was wrong was a sharp sting in her mouth. A glance around the room showed only herself present, but she could  _feel_  someone watching. The uneasiness was considerable.

As quickly and casually as possible, she finished her task, returning the mop to the closet and headed toward her bedroom. She needed to check on Cloud.

Something flickered in her peripheral vision, a quick glint of steel in the window and she twisted, gunning for the front door instead. Someone thought to spy on her? Well, someone was about to get their ass kicked. Unbolting the locks, she jerked the heavy wood open and scrambled outside.

But there was nothing and no one outside. A quick jog around the perimeter of the bar lead to more nothing, not a footprint in the dust or a mark against the pane of the window. She did a quick sweep up and down the street with her eyes and found no disorder. A familiar old couple standing in front of the materia shop, a dark haired boy with a puppy. Frowning, she made note to mention the incident at the meeting. If someone was watching the bar, then it meant someone was watching AVALANCHE. They would have to lay low and figure out a game plan.

Troubled, she made her way back inside and closed the door, bolting it shut. She still had to check on Cloud. Turning, she took one step forward—and nearly kicked Cloud in the head to find him standing just to the left of the door. With a gasp of recognition, she curtailed her extended leg at the last moment, colliding instead with the wall and rattling the rafters.

"Holy shit, Cloud!" she shrieked, sinking into to her fighting stance instinctively. She glared at him standing there, silent and unflinching. "I nearly took off your head!"

He blinked at her, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said.

She took a deep breath, waiting for her adrenaline to stop pumping and dropped her stance. All mighty Ifrit, he was up. He was up, awake and  _aware_ , it seemed, even had that enormous sword in tow. The initial shock of seeing him standing there and almost planting her foot in his face began to wear off and she peered at him critically. He looked…well, she supposed. There was color in his face and his eyes were blue save for that hint of rimming green, and he'd been responsive to her question—though "yeah" was yet another four letter word to join his other four letter word.

"How do you feel?" she asked, tilting her head as she asked the question. If he said "fine"...

A shrug, another rub of his neck. "Rested," he answered, though she could sense a wealth of something else she couldn't discern in his voice.

She smirked at his answer anyway. "I'll say," she replied, and gestured toward the kitchen. "C'mon, I'll get you something to eat."

After a moment's hesitation, he followed her.

She waved him to chair and set a glass of water before him, getting to work on making him a meal while her brain churned with questions. Gods, he was awake,  _finally_  awake. She had a million things to ask him, a million answers to obtain; he probably had his share too. Hadn't she scribbled down a list somewhere like some geek? No, damn it, but she should have.

Even though, she admitted to herself, she was afraid of his answers. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other, known each other, and everything had very much changed.

Trying to buy herself some time, she focused on the task at hand.

Lunch, hmm. Maybe she'd test a new recipe on him, something she'd been playing with that was hearty and filling but easy on the stomach. She'd throw in the rest of the casserole too, and the left over pasta salad. If anything she knew of SOLDIER was true, then he probably burned through ten times the amount of calories of the average man—and could probably live on ten times less also.

It was completely contradicting.

"How—long have I been here?" came his tentative question as she finished rinsing the vegetables. He set the massive sword behind him.

She brought her tools and ingredients to the counter adjacent the table, where he could hear her better as she spoke. "It's been about a week," she told him, peeling potatoes carefully into the garbage. "Do you remember anything?"

He was slowly twirling the glass in his hand, eyes on the table top. "Not much. Just—bits and pieces," he answered. "How…did I get here?"

She glanced at him then, quickly, before slicing onions. "I found you at the train station—well," she hesitated, "that's actually not true. Someone else found you and I, uhh, sort of inherited."

His head came up at that. "Huh?"

She sent him a sidelong glance. "This little old lady found you, was trying to help you up from where you were sitting. I didn't know it was you but went over to help her and then, next thing I know, she was pushing us down, telling me sorry and making her escape."

"An old lady?"

"Mushrooms ok?" she asked him and he nodded. "Yes, an old lady." She sent him a smirk, deciding to tease as he looked so tense. She let her voice slide dark and husky. "She wanted to take you  _home_."

She caught his reddened cheeks and grinned, turning to meet his blue eyes with the intentions of laughing.

Only…the instant they locked stares, she got sidetracked. His eyes…they were sky and sea, ice and flame and she couldn't remember what was funny.

"Home?" he asked as she fell in endless blue.

_Yes, come home._

The thought came unbidden and Tifa blinked, trying to refocus. Oh dear gods, please don't let her have said that aloud.

"I—yes, she…she was taking you somewhere, I just assumed to her house," she stammered, covering, and looked away, making sure to say "house." The word "home" was making her brain fuzzy and she wondered if she should put it on her do not say list, right next to the dreaded "C" word. She concentrated on giving the shitake mushrooms an even dice. "I—when I realized it was you, I just sort of…made you come back with me. You didn't look too well."

There was a long silence as she finished dicing the vegetables, then, "Thank you."

She shrugged, looked up to assess him again. "And you feel all right?" she asked, running her eyes over him again.

There was a pause then he nodded. "Yeah, a lot—better."

"Ok."

She turned to the stove then, to finish cooking, and they drifted into a comfortable silence, all the while she was aware that he was watching her every move. And though it was a bit odd, it was also—welcome. As if she'd been missing the weight of that stare though she'd never noticed it was gone—until it had returned.

Talk about contradicting.

When she finished, she set everything in front of him, the reheated casserole, a bowl with the pasta salad, and the mellow bibimbop. It was a strange meal to be sure, but it would be filling and that was all he really needed at this point. Grabbing the rest of the lemonade, she poured two glasses, placing one in front of him with the pitcher and keeping one for herself.

She pondered whether or not to talk to him while he ate, but discarded the idea. It was rude, to be sure, and besides, she still needed to get her head on straight. Sure he'd been back in her life for a week now—but he had only  _really_  been back as of a half hour ago.

"Eat," she encouraged. When he hesitated, she informed him, "I already ate and I have to finish cleaning the bar. I'll be back in a bit to check on you. Then—we need to talk."

They locked eyes, and Tifa kept hers calm and brisk. She had a feeling he wouldn't eat a bite unless she'd reassured him she was full—and onto other endeavors.

"All right," he answered, and picked up his utensils.

With a nod, she quit the room. Maybe she'd make that questions list…

* * *

The meal was good, great in fact, despite its odd offerings of some cheesy thing on a plate, some spirally things in a bowl, and another filled with rice, meat, vegetables and a runny egg that had him nearly licking it clean. It was better than anything Cloud had eaten in a long time—not that his memories were entirely complete…but at least from what he could recall. And he practically inhaled everything, even drank all the lemonade.

He burped unexpectedly, loud and long, and winced at the sound, then sat back in his chair with satisfaction and surveyed his surroundings.

It was a medium sized kitchen, square and efficiently created. Stainless steel sinks and counters, more stainless steel appliances, a long cook top and hood, a receiving area beside where he sat. In the back was a walk in fridge/freezer near an exit leading to what looked like an alley. He assumed the table he was seated at was used for in house dining.

A bar, she'd said. She needed to finishing cleaning the bar. How long had she been working there? Who would've thought that Tifa would be working in a bar? Certainly not him. In his mind, she should never have to work at all.

Gods, but it had been a long time since he'd seen her. He'd damn well Petrified at the first real sight of her and had nearly gotten punted in the head.

When he'd first woken up in the darkened bedroom, he'd been nearly vibrating with tension, his hand automatically reaching for the Buster Sword, somehow aware that it was within reach. He'd quickly scanned the space, taking stock of the size and scope, exits and weapons, instinctively cataloging any items he came across. When he'd heard the sounds of footsteps both outside and in, he'd rolled to his feet.

_Where the hell am I?_  he'd thought.

A covert glimpse outside the single window of the room had showed a figure disappearing behind the building next door. Inside the house, he'd heard the sound of pounding feet, silence, then quick footsteps approaching the window from outside, much as the previous figure. With another quick flick of his eyes, he'd spotted a woman with long dark hair jogging around the perimeter—and had instantly forgotten to how to breathe.

_Tifa_.

He'd had a flash memories then, of carmine eyes asking him to follow, of a soft, vibrant voice telling him a story, of the comforting brush of a hand along his cheek and jaw and heart. It was the latter he remembered most clearly, the press of her hand soothing his heart, assuring him she would keep it safe.

Safe. He'd promised once that he would keep her safe.

The reminder had him out of the room instantly, sword at the ready, and though he didn't know the layout of the building, he simply followed the counts of her breaths.

He'd found her on the veranda of the building, standing by the front window and looking at the glass—but not through it. She hadn't looked alarmed, just troubled and so he'd stayed inside, waiting to see her next move.

When she'd come back in and nearly detached his head, he'd been too enraptured by actually,  _finally_  seeing her he hadn't reacted at all.

Tifa…he could hear her in the room one over, stepping, shuffling, her feet light and confident as she moved around the area. Five years and she was—Gods, she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. More mature than she'd been at fifteen, more honed and sure but no less stunning. Legs that went on for miles, curves that weakened knees, and that teasing smile she'd given him…the blood drained out of his head and his only response had been to stupidly repeat her last word.

He should have been used to that. As a kid, that smile had often made him slack jawed.

He wondered briefly about the questions she had for him; he had his too. Would he lie to her?  _Naw_ , he thought, shaking his head. He wouldn't lie to her, could probably never lie to her. But as he filtered through the fragments of his memories, he wondered if he should.

He was clearing off the table when he heard her returning, having finished her chores, and he kept his gaze hidden, concentrating on neatly stacking the plates and bowls and glasses before taking them to the sink to be washed.

"I'll do that," she informed him from behind, and he could hear her moving toward him. One step, two, then she was radiating warmth and at his side.

She smelled  _amazing_ , like honey and magnolias and peonies, tempered with something clean and soothing, something that beckoned him. How he knew such poetic words, he wasn't sure, especially as he turned and inhaled as casually as possible, drawing her scent into his nostrils. Had he just sniffed her, like some animal?

"I can help," he managed awkwardly, distracted. She shook her head in denial, cascading that long, dark hair.

"It's fine, Cloud, I can do it," she insisted. He risked a glance at her face and found her lips firm, chin tucked stubbornly. "Just have a seat. I'll be quick then we can talk."

He paused, considering her expression. She looked as if she needed the activity, much as she had earlier, and he nodded once. "All right." He stepped back, suddenly missing her beside him, and made his way back to his chair.

He watched her as she worked, knew he was being creepy but he just couldn't help it. He'd watched her earlier too, while she'd been cooking. Just like before, he marveled at her grace and efficiency. No move was wasted, no touch unnecessary. He drank it all in, soaked and steeped, admired the arc of her neck and back, the bow of her waist and flair of her hip, the forever legs she balanced on so effortlessly. He felt as if he were being rewarded to be allowed to watch her again and he didn't want to waste a second of it.

He thought maybe the satisfaction he derived had to do with nostalgia, and maybe a little bit of it did; she reminded him of the boy he'd been and the dreams he'd carried. But as he got lost in the shift of her body and tilt of her head, he knew it truly had to do with just  _her_.

He had ample memories of her from their childhood, most of it seen from his distant view, a few—too very few—up close. She'd lived right next door, and even then she'd been the prettiest thing, with wide, friendly eyes and a sparkling smile. The first time he'd glimpsed that shining grin—it hadn't even been directed at him—he'd lost himself in it. And then he'd looked into her cherry-dark eyes for the first time—and he'd been restored. It had been extremely… _weird_  for a six year old to feel that way, but—he had.

As good as her word, she finished quickly and moved toward the table where he was seated, settling down in the chair before him. She had another pitcher of lemonade in her hands and a single glass. With nimble fingers, she neatly poured the liquid and set it in front of him.

"I noticed you're thirsty," she stated, and offered him a small smile.

He was thirsty. The Mako inside of him seemed to crave fluid. "Yeah," he acknowledged, lifting the glass. "Thanks." He paused, felt confidence and ineptness warring inside him. It was…strange, as if he had two people vying to be alive. "For feeding me also."

"You're welcome." It was her turn to pause, her eyes stormy, and he remained silent, waiting for her to start.

Would she ask about his sword, he wondered as her eyes flickered to the thing. It wasn't like she could miss it, it was huge. Would she ask about his valor and history? Where he'd been or what he'd seen? Shinra and SOLDIER? Everyone always wanted to know about SOLDIER. He kept his eyes on the lemonade, watching the condensation form at the base of the cylinder.

"How…how have you been, Cloud?" she asked in a small voice, and he felt something in his heart clench at the unsteady tone.

He didn't like to hear her sound so uncertain and he looked up.

Blue eyes locked with carmine. "I've…been all right," he answered lamely. "How are you?"

She shook her head, lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. "I'm still here," she replied. Her hands lifted to the table, supple and tough, and laced together. She placed them on the scarred wood. "I own this building, this bar."

The surprise he felt was evident in his eyes. Tifa  _owned_  the bar?

"I live with four other roommates and a little girl. You'll meet most of them shortly. Marlene and Jessie should be back soon and Biggs and Wedge will be home before dinner. Barret is back tonight."

A bar? He couldn't get over that, his brain still processing the news. "When?"

She blinked. "When? Oh, um." Carmine swirled. "Jessie and Marlene in less than an hour."

He shook his head. "No, I meant—when did you open the bar?"

" _Oh_. I was seventeen, I think. I'd been working for awhile and managed to save up enough to invest in some property." She laughed, a false, empty sound and he felt his heart clench once more. "No one really cares about your age around these parts, as long as you have the gil."

"Seventeen?" he echoed. So young. She should've been dancing at school parties and worrying about curfew, not thinking about investments and sales.

"Yeah." Another pause, a deep breath. "So, congratulations. You...are SOLDIER, just like you wanted. 1st Class if the uniform I found you in is any indication." Her eyes were wary, but that was ok. Most people were wary of SOLDIER. And he intended to quell her fears anyway.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I made SOLIDER but I'm not with them anymore."

Those beautiful eyes glinted like rubies as they pinned him. "You're...not?"

"Naw. It was time to leave—so I left. I'm a mercenary now."

Blink. "Oh." He could see her thoughts working, filtering the information he'd given her. "Is that...how you ended up here? In the slums? What brought you here?"

Something flashed in his mind, a pink ribbon and cache of letters. "I was supposed to meet someone." Or find someone?

"Are you still supposed to meet them?" She tilted her head as she asked the question, and he watched her bangs sway. "It's been a few days. You can use my phone if you need to call them."

He shook his head, trying to focus the memory, felt it slip. "No," he replied. "It's not important." He sipped the lemonade, letting the sugary, citrus liquid coat his throat. "How about you? How did you end up in the slums?"

He watched her eyes change, shift from carmine to something shadowed and guarded. "A-after it all happened, Master Zangan brought me here," she said and he could tell she was carefully choosing her words.

He saw another flash, one of flames and embers, and something stuttered in his chest, something that was like the slice of a blade. A sense of loss pulled him, tugged until he felt his breath hitch. "Nibelheim…" he whispered. His heart wavered and he remembered…

He reached across the table, hands unsteady, and grasped hers. "I…I thought you were dead," he whispered, and the grief settled heavy and bitter in his gut. He could feel it eating at him, as if it were happening all over again. "I was too late…and I thought you were dead."

He could recall it too clearly, the image of her covered in blood, the coppery taste filling his mouth and the raw anguish that had wound so tightly inside of him. Everything had been fiery, ablaze, snapping cinder and waves of ashes, smoke so thick he couldn't see. And the screams…so many screams and pleas and calls for help. The smells of burning wood and…flesh…His home, his mother, his Tifa…

"…Cloud, it's ok, I'm right here." Something soft and comforting cupped his face, stroked his cheek. "Right here, I'm right here with you. Come back to me."

His eyes began to refocus, met worried carmine, and he turned his lips into her palm. " _Tifa_ ," he exhaled, and let the darkness recede as the scent and feel of her, real and true, enveloped him.

It took sometime but he slowly became aware of his surroundings—and the fact that Tifa was no longer where she had been, across the table where he'd taken her hands, but was seated  _on_  the table, right in front of him, one long leg tucked under her while the other swung loosely next to his chest. And he was still gripping a slender hand tightly between them while the other had found its way to her hip, gripping just as tightly.

"Well, this is awkward," he muttered against her palm, and was rewarded with her tinkling laugh. The tightness in his gut, the memory and loss of never hearing that sound again, began to abate.

"Just a little," she teased, and he felt the tap of her fingers along his cheek before her hand slid away. He nearly chased it with his mouth, tempered the movement instead by raising his eyes to find hers.

She looked down at him worriedly, a crease between her eyes where her brows drew together. "You ok?" she asked quietly.

As he looked into her carmine eyes, he thought, no, he wasn't it. But he would be.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'M GONE FOR ONE FUCKING WEEK—"

"—Barret, you have to calm down—"

"—he's not that bad, Barret. He helped Teefs today—"

"—did you see his sword? Man, it's so cool—"

"—because Teef's gonna break your nose just like mine—"

"—AND ALL OF A SUDDEN THERE'S FUCKING  _SOLDIER_  AND  _SHINRA_  IN MY HOUSE—"

"—he's not SOLDIER anymore. He's a mercenary now—"

"—took out the garbage, stacked the dishes, rearranged some of the heavier boxes—"

"—although, what a weird name, 'Cloud'—"

"—I don't think it healed right, Teefs. I'm just not as handsome anymore—"

"—AND I'M SUPPOSE CALM THE FUCK DOWN—"

"—and I trust my instincts and they trust  _him_ —"

"—and he's  _scary_  polite, and he moves, like,  _silently_ —"

"—I mean, you think his parents made him under the clouds? Really, what kinda name is 'Cloud'—"

"—dude, your name is  _Wedge_  and you think  _Cloud_  is a weird name—"

* * *

How quickly the next few weeks flew by Tifa didn't know; it all seemed to blur together. The bar opened and closed, the team came and went, AVALANCHE argued strategy and disguises, routes and methods—and through it all she somehow managed to keep Cloud and Barret from slaughtering one another.

Barret, for his part, tried his best to avoid Cloud. If the ex-SOLIDER was in the bar, Barret remained downstairs. If Cloud ate in the kitchen, Barret took his meals on the veranda with Marlene. But there were only so many places either could be at any one time, especially as Cloud adjusted to everyone's living patterns and found his own rhythm within them.

Biggs and Wedge, as expected, quickly accepted Cloud into their ranks as if he had always belonged. As far as those two were concerned, Cloud had finally seen the light and was fully reformed, was a welcomed, new addition. Wedge even seemed to look up to Cloud, found him an inspiration of sorts.

Jessie and Marlene, it seemed, had developed tiny crushes on Cloud. The former would cast him fluttering looks from beneath her lashes while the latter hid behind Tifa's legs. It was surprising to Tifa, for Marlene was always bold and friendly, never one to be timid. Jessie she understood better, and found it adorable how the red-head would always shyly ask if Cloud wanted more coffee, or offered to help him dry dishes if it was his turn to wash. It was really sweet the way both turned beet red and became flustered each time blue eyes moved their way.

Tifa couldn't blame them—his eyes made  _her_  feel that way.

Cloud seemed to take all of it in stride, though something about it troubled Tifa and she wasn't exactly sure what. He just seemed…different then who she remembered, more cocky and arrogant though not in an annoying way. It was actually a bit charming. He was always friendly, treated Biggs and Wedge amicably yet held them at a polite distance. He often appeared amused at the affect he had Jessie, and he always had a smile for Marlene. Barret's open dislike of him was met with sardonic sniggering and sly comebacks.

"What the fuck you lookin' at, Spiky?" Barret would bait. "Don't go thinkin' you so bad jes 'cus you was in SOLDIER." Although the SOLDIER comment was unnecessary since Barret had already decided to hate Cloud  _prior_  to knowing he was ex-SOLDIER.

Tifa winced at the memory.

When Barret had first arrived home, the dinner rush had just dispersed that evening, with only a single gentleman remaining. Marlene, reading quietly in a corner booth, had squealed and leapt to greet her adopted father. Tifa had been bussing a table and had looked up in time to see the big black man catch his much smaller daughter in his arms.

A minute had gone by, probably less, and Tifa had already started to brace herself yet had still cringed when she'd heard, "WHAT D'YOU MEAN SHE HAS A NEW FRIEND SHE'S SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED WITH?"

_Busted,_  she'd thought guiltily.

Her last customer, upon hearing Barret's bellow, had dumped some gil on the table and made a hasty escape.

Cloud, sitting at the start of the bar nearest the entrance to the house proper, had looked up at Barret's words as well, but instead of looking toward the sound of the voice, he'd looked toward  _her_.

She'd purposely avoided his gaze and had instead finished clearing her table. Barret had taken a few calming breaths, shot Cloud and herself death glares—Marlene had innocuously pointed Cloud out—and had proceeded to escort Marlene to bed.

"Two minutes, baby doll," Barret had growled at her as he'd walked by.

"Ten," she'd hedged, and gestured to the last table.

"Five," he'd shot back and disappeared with a wide eyed Marlene.

As heavy as Barret's scowl had been, the weight of Cloud's stare had been no different and she'd felt her shoulders tensing as he'd watched her. Obviously, the mention of her having shared his bed had  _not_  come up during their conversations that day—neither would she have casually revealed the activity anyway. Having had it announced, though, she could do nothing but resign herself. She'd have to now explain, to both Barret and the victim of her insistent cuddling, why she'd crawled into bed with him. Trying not to squirm uncomfortably, she'd hurriedly bussed the final table and locked up the bar.

"I'll be back," she'd offered weakly, and had attempted a reassuring smile that had probably looked sickly. Then she'd bolted—much as the last patron had.

Downstairs, once Barret had finished roaring, she'd retold the story of Nibelheim burning, how she'd found Cloud, and who he was. With Biggs, Wedge and Jessie jumping in with commentary. Which hadn't exactly helped matters.

After an hour of promising upside and down that Cloud was worthy of her trust, and reminding Barret that he could trust  _her_  if not Cloud, Barret had asked bluntly, "So why the hell did my four year old say you were sleeping with him?"

She'd shot her own death glare at Jessie, who'd looked on innocently. "I…I usually sleep in a cot on the floor and he's on the bed but…he had a nightmare so I just…slept. With him. That's all." She was quick to add, "Nothing happened! He just…laid there."

Jessie had finally jumped in, thinking to soothe. "This is a true story. Our sad little wandering snuggler was all over him like a second blanket and he just looked sort of…tolerant."

Tolerant. Her heart had done a funny clench in her breast at that.

She'd slept better than she'd had in too, too long and he'd been…tolerant.

Pushing aside the stupid flicker of her stupid heart, she'd said, "The point is, we were just sleeping, in the literal sense, and that's all Marlene saw. Sleeping."

"Best be it," Barret had uttered. "And I ain't just talkin' about how Marley found you. I'm talkin' that that was  _all_  you did with his spiky head."

She'd bristled at that of course. "I'm twenty years old. Even if I  _did_  do more, it would be my prerogative."

"No, it would be his fucking ba—"

"Barret!" she'd interrupted. "Let's just drop it, ok? We'll just agree to disagree. Can we discuss AVALANCHE now?" Talking about how much she liked to cuddle the comatose was  _not_  her favorite subject, damn it.

As they'd switched topics, Tifa had been well aware that Cloud, who'd she'd assumed had remained in the bar where she'd left him, was probably able to overhear their every conversation. Mako enhanced hearing was purported to be able to distinguish a pin drop if the listener was so inclined to take notice. They'd soundproofed the basement well enough but how much of a deterrent would that be for someone like him, who knew  _he_  was going to be the subject of their discussions?  _She_  wouldn't have been able to resist listening.

When she'd finally returned upstairs, slightly exhausted from the day's activities—the embarrassment of forcing an unwitting body to cuddle, a hectic lunch hour, chasing a voyeur, a finally cognizant invalid, a hollering 6'5" Mr. T lookalike, and talks of terrorism—she'd warily glanced at Cloud, still seated on his stool, and, of course, found him watching her.

"So I guess you heard," she'd mumbled and proceeded to open the bar for the evening.

There was a long silence from behind her, then finally, "Yeah."

She'd fidgeted with the locks, taking innate care to swing the door wide and release the doorstop. "Any questions?" she'd asked before taking a deep breath and swinging around to face him.

She hadn't been sure what she'd been expecting. Censure. Disappointment. Disgust, maybe. There weren't many people on the Planet who understood her need to  _do_  something, to follow a belief and fight against what she knew was wrong—whether or not it was pleasant. She fought because she could, because it mattered. She fought for Marlene—and the future that she deserved.

But azure eyes were only curious.

"How did you get involved?" had come his soft inquiry. The "with AVALANCHE" remained unsaid, probably in safeguard against any unwanted listeners.

"I met Barret at a diner where I used to work," she'd explained and made her way back to the bar. Barret. He'd been her first friend in Midgar, became stand in father and loyal companion. And he'd brought her Marlene. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him. "He was a regular. We got to talking and—we hit it off,  _really_  hit it off. Our hopes for the Planet and Lifestream are the same, our values, beliefs. Our disgust with Shinra. When he talked about reestablishing the team, I wanted in. Next thing I know, everyone's living here."

He'd nodded silently, though she could detect a wealth of unvoiced questions in his eyes.

The arrival of a few customers had cut short any further inquiries—and she couldn't have said they hadn't been welcome.

Of course, before the end of the night, he'd asked about their sleeping situation. Which had only been a fair question as she'd hollered out last call and they would soon be off to bed. It was a good thing she'd already made arrangements to sleep with Jessie, giving Cloud her room and space.

"Hey, can I…talk to you?" he'd asked as she was loading the glass washer.

She'd looked up, surprised by his serious tone. He'd been quiet most of the night, nursing his pitchers of lemonade as she'd tended bar. "Sure. What's up?"

"I just wanted to say—thanks again," he'd started slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm really grateful for your help. And for taking care of me. I don't—I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't found me."

She'd nodded, understanding the needed to express gratitude. "It's all right, Cloud. You're welcome."

"Maybe I can pay you—"

She'd looked at him, appalled. " _What_?"

"I know it wasn't easy, trying to nurse me. Just thought I could—"

"Whoa," she'd cut him off and stopped her task. She'd quickly wiped off her hands and stalked back toward him, making sure her gaze remained fixed on his. "Stop right now before you insult me any further. I did what I did because we're friends, Cloud, because you needed help and I was able to give it. I didn't do it for monetary gain. The fact that you're offering is offensive and it hurts me."

Those blue eyes had widened at that, shame swiftly apparent. "No—I didn't mean—I would never—"

She'd nodded quickly to interrupt him. "I know, Cloud, I know. But please. Don't offer to pay me again."

He'd stared back at her, swirling azure locked with carmine. Tifa let her eyes remain firm and steady, unwavering.

"I just I thought maybe, if it would be ok," he'd continued hesitantly, "I could stay here for a while. Until I—I don't know. Figure out what or where I…need to be."

She'd smiled. This was good. She'd been going to ask him to stay anyway. "You can stay as long as you'd like," she'd reassured him.

"But I don't want to be a burden. I want to be able to pay my way—no, I don't mean with gil," he'd continued when she'd opened her mouth to protest. "I just meant—maybe I can…help around the bar, do odds and ends—things like that. Earn my keep."

She'd tilted her head at him. She understood too, the need to pull your own weight and not be a burden, to refuse blatant charity. And he had already been helpful that very evening, assisting during the dinner hour by clearing tables, putting away dishes. "Ok," she'd agreed and lifted her hand, offering him a handshake to seal their deal. "I'll put you to work."

He'd stared at her proffered hand a moment and she'd wondered what sort of thoughts were going on behind those eyes. After several silent heartbeats, he'd grasped her hand in his, palm to palm. The contact had somehow been far more intimate than it should have been.

"Ok," he'd echoed.

Satisfied, she'd sent him another smile and went to tug her hand away—only to find him unwilling to release her. Blinking, she'd looked at him questioningly.

"Can I keep sleeping in your bed, Tifa?" had come his husky query, his voice soft and deep and private.

She hadn't known how she'd remained standing; she'd felt her knees dissolve and she'd had to grasp the bar for support. Heat curled low in her belly and electricity snaked up her spine to remain pulsing along her shoulders.  _Sweet, sweet Shiva._  The entire Planet, everything around her, seemed to disappear until it was just him, his rough voice, and his blue blue  _blue_  eyes.

Mesmerized, she'd nodded. _Yes, please._

"Thanks," he'd finished, and released her hand.

She'd nodded again dumbly, as she'd tried to resurface from having drowned in the sea of his eyes and the growl of his voice. He made her…stupid, she'd realized, taking a few gulping breaths before stumbling back toward the kitchen.

And he'd conned her out of her bed too, she'd realized later as she finished sweeping. It didn't matter she'd already decided to let him have her room. He hadn't known it and he'd conned her!

_Serves you right_ , she'd said to herself as she'd shoved the broom into the storage closet with a tad more force than necessary. She'd looked back, caught his gaze—she'd tried to send him off to bed earlier, seeing the fatigue evident in his paling features but he'd refused, determined to stay with her until the end—and announced, "All done."

He'd nodded once, risen and followed her to her room. She hadn't had time earlier to grab her things but she'd do so quickly, drag the cot with her. Maybe she'd ask him to help her carry it to Jessie's?

Hurriedly, she'd gone straight to her dresser to grab some sleep clothes, rummaging for a change of clothing as well. As she'd heard Cloud head into the bathroom, she'd decided to stuff a pack full of items for the week instead of just grabbing enough for the next day. She'd set the full bag on the cot and looked up as he came out.

His spiky bangs slightly damp, she saw he'd changed back into flannel pajamas and a black cotton t-shirt, another of the many made of that silky, heathery fabric. Her eyes flickered as she recalled the feel of that soft fabric against cheek. "All yours," he'd offered and made his way toward the bed.

"I'll be quick," she'd promised and grabbed her own pajamas as she headed into the bathroom. She'd changed and washed up quickly, made sure to grab a towel from the linen closet and roll her toiletries between it. Was she forgetting anything? Possibly, but she would grab anything missing in the morning. With a last brush of her hair—she'd braid it upstairs, didn't want to keep him up any longer—she'd flipped off the light and exited the bathroom, mouth open to wish him a good night.

She'd found the door shut and room dark, lit only by the glimmer of the lamppost outside her window, and had blinked. Had she been in the bathroom so long he'd forgotten she was there? Puzzled, she'd looked toward the bed.

In the dimly lit room, she'd been able to make out the shape of him lying in as much the same position as he had the evening before, on his back, his hands folded on his stomach. His features had been cast in partial shadow and the quilt had been turned down, as if in wait…of someone…to join him…

Her stomach had done a flip inside of her, a rushing Somersault.

Uhhh. When he'd asked to sleep in her bed earlier, had he meant…with her in it?

"Can you see?" had come his voice in that husky timbre that sent the blood rushing from her head. "You look a little lost."

"Err, y-yeah," she'd mumbled.

She needed to leave. Immediately.

Except…her limbs seemed to have had other ideas and she was somehow fumbling her way in the dark toward him instead. And then she was crawling up the mattress to the space she'd vacated just that morning. And he was drawing the quilt over them both. And she was lying there, beside him, trying not to feel awkward as she took care not to invade his space.

Space that, she'd thought, would probably disappear once she was asleep. She needed to warn him about her penchant for snuggling because the space she was being so careful to keep between them was, without a doubt, going to dissolve. Grappling for courage, she'd opened her mouth to speak.

"I, uhhh, might invade your space tonight," she'd confessed, wincing in the dark. "I, ummm. I don't know but I…like to…do that to people." Oh, gods, she was such a loser. "Just, you know. You can just wake me up and uhhh. I'll…stop."

Silence. Then, "Ok."

She'd felt like sinking into the mattress. Or bolting. She'd even eyed the door for a while, considering.

But as she'd lain there, nervously braiding and unbraiding and rebraiding her hair, her brain going a mile a minute, she'd become aware of Cloud's deep, even breathing, his relaxed body. A quick glance showed him sound asleep.

He  _had_  looked exhausted earlier. And no matter how many reassurances she'd given him about the years and years before that she'd closed the bar alone, he hadn't budged. Damn it, she loathed to wake him but she didn't want to embarrass herself even more.

_You can't_ , came a dark reminder.

She'd sighed

Eventually, she'd fallen asleep too, lulled by the familiar buzz of the dimming and flickering of the Mako light outside her room and Cloud's warmth beside her, his breaths. When she'd woken up at her usual time, she'd once again found herself wound around him while he lay in his same position, the only change being his hand covering her own over his heart. And she'd extracted herself as carefully as possible, just as the morning prior, before tiptoeing to the bathroom.

And that was how each day ended—and began. Every night she would fall asleep beside him and awaken curled against him, though she never quite managed to stop cringing in embarrassment. He was kind, at least, and never acknowledged being victimized.

He'd quickly adjusted to her sleeping schedule too, never awake in time to see her departure but was up and aware by the time she was done with her morning shower.

Giving the bar a last survey to ensure it was ready for opening, she wondered if Barret had come to a decision yet about her insistence of hiring Cloud for their Shinra raid. She'd asked him yet again before he'd left with Marlene that morning, knew he'd been thinking that—as much as he was loathe to admit it—Cloud's skills as an ex-SOLDIER and mercenary were wasted only helping her around the bar. Not only that, she could feel Cloud's restlessness growing, as if he were ready to take flight—and it made her nervous. Scared, if she was honest. Scared he wasn't ready to be on his own, scared he would come to harm, scared because she hadn't quite figured out what it was about him that was out of place.

Scared because he could leave at any second—and not return.

She thought maybe his restlessness also had to do with the fact that he'd seemed to have fully recovered and gained back his original strength; he often disappeared in the time between the dinner hour and the opening of the bar, came back sweaty and satisfied and she knew he had been out training. He would be a valuable asset to AVALANCHE.

He was due back from such a run any moment, she thought as she unlocked the bar door and flicked on the "OPEN" sign. She already had his pitcher of lemonade at the ready for him, waiting with a clean glass where he'd seemed to favor sitting each evening.

He didn't disappoint, returned just as she made it back around the bar, his brow dotted with moisture and the cotton t-shirt he'd gotten comfortable wearing damp down the front.

"Hey," she greeted him, trying not to obviously ogle his athletic form and vying instead to ogle discreetly. There was just something so… _primal_  about a man dampened with perspiration from physical exertion.

He nodded in acknowledgement, came and sat down in his preferred stool. She swallowed, averted her eyes as he poured himself a glass and drank deeply. Busying herself, she made her way to the glass washer and began to empty its contents.

"Hey Spiky," came Barret's deep baritone voice and she looked up to find the tall, black man standing at the bar entrance, his dark eyes pinned on Cloud. "Need to ask you somethin'. Gotta minute?" He glanced at Tifa briefly, nodded almost imperceptibly, and turned back.

Though she knew Barret would have eventually agreed, relief still coursed through her.

She flicked her eyes to Cloud, who took his time in turning to give Barret his attention, a deliberate poke. She rolled her eyes.  _Children_ , she thought, and picked up a rag to dry the damp glasses.

"Yeah?"

Barret jerked his head forward. "Downstairs. Need privacy," he explained and stalked toward the back, disappearing without waiting to see if Cloud would follow.

"He likes me more and more every day," Cloud said with false cheeriness and Tifa bit her bottom lip in an effort not to smile. She didn't want to encourage him.

"Play nice," she admonished, leveling him with a firm look. "I don't want to spend my night cleaning up blood."

"I'm glad you're concerned about the right things," he muttered, pouring himself another glass of lemonade before standing to follow Barret.

"You try cleaning blood off hardwood," she called after him, before turning to greet her first customer of the evening.

She remained patient, waiting and hoping, listening for sounds of disaster even as she both praised and cursed the soundproofing they'd put in. Were they dead? Were they bleeding out? Surely Marlene would've woken up screaming was there any real danger, right? She fidgeted, served up drinks, collected glasses and refilled beers. After an hour had passed without either of them resurfacing, she was certain they had somehow Poisoned one another and were suffering slow and silent deaths so as not to disturb the resting four year old.

She would finish loading up the glass washer and go down to investigate, she decided, and smiled at a young couple who entered the bar—followed promptly by a familiar face.

"Luc!" she called out in pleasant surprise, her dying friends temporarily forgotten.

While Luc been initially scheduled to show up so many weeks ago, he had instead left a coded message for AVALANCHE that he'd gotten tied up with other duties and wouldn't be able to make an appearance. He'd assured them, though, that their equipment would arrive without fail and he'd been right; everything that Tifa had listed and requested had been delivered without trouble a week later. It was good to see him however, and she grinned as she watched him make his way toward her.

_He really is easy to look at_ , she thought, admiring the agile way he moved, each long legged stride he took confident and smooth. He was dressed in all black, and more formally than she was used to in an open necked collared shirt, trousers and a blazer.

"Hey, Beauty," he greeted her, settling on a barstool in front of where she stood. He reached out and gently brushed the bangs from her face, his fingers doing a tapping dance on her cheek along the way. "Long time no see. Did you miss me?"

She shook her head wryly at his shameless flirting.  _Jessie's head is going to implode_ , she thought with a smirk as she imagined the red-head torn between the dark, electric Luc and Cloud's disarming blue eyes. "Always," she answered, and received a charming wink in response.

"I knew you'd realize this place wouldn't be heaven without me," he announced as she drafted him his regular pint of ale.

"No, just my own personal 7th Heaven," she retorted and was rewarded with a chuck under her chin. She smiled guilelessly in response, unrepentant.

"Watch that tongue of yours, Beauty," he growled at her and accepted the mug she offered. "I've got other much more useful things for it to be doing if it won't play nice."

It was a familiar banter between them, and she fell into the rhythm easily. "It always plays nice, and whether or not you agree is your problem."

"You won't think it's a problem if I spank it a bit," he replied, and waggled his brows suggestively.

She laughed. That was a new one. "How long have you been saving that up?"

He sipped his ale appreciatively with a nod before returning her grin. "Since the time you said 'it likes to hurt, just a little.'"

She laughed again, this time at his horrid falsetto imitation of her, and nodded to a customer raising his glass for a refill. "That was months ago!" And it had been, during the summer when the Mako had been warm beneath the earth and the slums had seemed less cold. She'd seen him at least half a dozen times since.

"I kept forgetting," he shrugged, then regarded her with a solemn, ice blue stare. "I'm sorry I couldn't come out and see you sooner. Things have been a bit frenzied in my world. How've you been, Beauty?"

"Oh, you know, the usual." She reached for a bottle of rail whiskey and poured two fingers. "Trying not to die and stuff. Be right back." She tapped the wood in front of him as she left to make a quick round. Only seven or eight other patrons, but that was enough for a Wednesday.

"How are you?" she asked once she returned, discarding empty beer bottles and dumping out excess liquids. "Busy, I suspect?"

His dark head bobbed in a nod, swaying the black strands that fell messily over his forehead. "You have no idea," came his mysterious response.

No, Tifa thought, she really didn't. Though she considered him a friend, he had always remained that elusive step in the dark, as if he were afraid of revealing too much of himself. She understood that, probably as well as anyone, if not better. But he looked suddenly lonely, and she wondered if he would open up to her, even a little, if she found the right words to encourage him.

She pondered it a bit, went with the truth. "I like to think that we're friends of sorts, you and I," she started softly, finished fussing with the glasses and came to stand still in front of him. She kept her gaze sincere as they locked with his. "We trust one another as much as we trust anyone and we're both fine with our relationship as it is now. But, maybe, if you're ok with it, maybe I can trust you more than just 'anyone'—if you'd be willing to do the same." She gave him an open smile, softening her tone as she added, "I don't have many real friends and it would be nice to count you amongst them."

Ice blue eyes watched, flickered, considered. Then they shuttered abruptly and slid away and Tifa sighed in disappointment.

So much for the going with the truth, she thought to herself and turned to resume her previous chores. She thought Luc would've made a good friend, loyal and trustworthy. But she understood his hesitation. So be it.

"Hey, Beauty?" she heard a few minutes later.

She lifted her chin in acknowledgement, focused on shaking the suds out of a bottle of beer. When he didn't continue, her gaze lifted, sought his. "'What's up?"

The strangest thing happened then. Their gazes locked and those icy blue eyes flickered again, but this time from blue—to  _red_ , a true red, bright and even—then back to blue once more. It was something she'd never seen before and it was—alarming, though she found she wasn't afraid, just truly  _surprised_.

"Whaaaat?" she breathed, awed, and blindly tossed the empty bottle toward the garbage behind her. She heard it land with a satisfying clink and made her way back toward him. "Do it again."

Ice blue paused, flipped to red for two, three heartbeats, then back again.

She remained silent, almost completely floored before she burst out, "Cooeeeeeeeel. That was amazing! What else can you do?!"

Blink, then his breath left him in a startled laugh. "I'm not a damn trick machine," he grumbled. "Can't just crank 'em out because you so beckoned."

She reached out and ruffled his messy hair affectionately. "We're gonna be  _best_  friends," she declared with an exaggerated ardor and he rolled his eyes at her. It was an olive branch he'd just offered, a tentative yes to her question because she knew he too, instinctively understood they could be great friends. She returned his grin cheekily before she left to make another round of the bar.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke again. "Heard you got an enemy in your camp," he said, lifting his mug.

He must've been talking to Barret with her unawares. Her gaze shifted toward the entrance to the stairs, suddenly recalling that she might have to bury two bodies that night. "Well," she replied casually with a shrug, "you know what they say. Keep your friends close."

"Be careful, yeah?" He regarded her with serious eyes.

"Yeah." She reached for a rag, wiped down the bar. "Any word?" she asked as the sudden prickling sensation of being watched came over her. She tried not to be obvious as she searched the room. Nothing, no one.

The feeling of being watched—not by Cloud for his gaze was never threatening—had become more and more frequent as of late. They'd amped security by having Jessie install several hidden, short-circuit cameras around the building, but the videos never showed anything out of the ordinary. After her first encounter so many weeks ago, Biggs and Wedge had that very night gone through and fingerprinted all the hundreds of prints found on window outside—and come up empty. After chasing another shadow last week down the alley, she'd finally asked Jessie to send Luc a message to see if he could discover anything.

Luc, sipping his mug of ale, only nodded once in answer—telling Tifa she wasn't the only one who was aware of being suddenly observed.

Which meant it was not a good sign. Damn it.

"You've got some time," Luc said and set down his glass on the coaster, leaning his elbows on the table and tilting forward to keep his voice low. "From what I know, there have been no communications of conversations or sounds, it's just been a lot of visual and even then they've been first hand reports, nothing recorded."

Which meant, Tifa thought as she unloaded the glass washer,  _some_ one suspected  _some_ thing—they just didn't know what they were searching for. Which also meant AVALANCHE had a chance to cut off the source before things got dangerously sticky.

"Yup," Luc echoed as if Tifa had spoken the words aloud, and she grinned at him in response. She hadn't, of course, but the fact that they'd been thinking the same thing tickled her. Luc seemed to suspect as much and winked, reaching forward to brush her bangs from her eyes again.

"Hey, my  _man_!" came a sudden loud, booming baritone and Tifa turned to see that Barret and Cloud had finally emerged. Barret was grinning widely, already stalking over to greet Luc with a friendly shoulder pounding that should have dislocated a few bones. Cloud remained where he was, standing at the end of the bar, his face impassive though she could sense some sort of tension in him. She gave him a quick once over, satisfied that he was in one piece, and let her attention wander back to the pair in front of her. "It's good ta see ya, kid. You all dressed up and shit."

"What's up, Barret?" Luc replied with a grin. "Long time."

"Sure has been," the black man agreed. He nodded toward Tifa. "She not talkin' too much shit to ya, is she?"

"She" lifted her chin and thumbed her nose at him.

"Who, Beauty here? She hardly ever talks trash," Luc replied, which earned Barret's snort. "And if she does, I just tell her what she needs to do with her tongue instead."

"Hey!" Tifa and Barret both scolded before they looked askance at one another. Luc laughed at them both.

"If I didn't know you was jokin', kid, I'd slap you with my good hand," Barret growled as Tifa prepared a pitcher of ale for them. They usually shared a few while they caught one another up. Next to Tifa, Luc was probably the only other person in the world that Barret trusted fully—and only then because of some shared memory that Tifa was aware of but didn't know details about.

"What?" Luc asked, blinking innocently as she set the full pitcher on a tray with an extra glass. "I only ever tell her to curb hers. Tell him, Beauty."

The gall of the man, he even batted his lashes at her. She rolled her eyes at him. "Bite me," she replied.

"Any and everywhere you'd like me to," came his sly response followed by a lecherous grin. That earned him another wallop on his shoulder, this one not so friendly and it was Tifa's turn to laugh as Luc winced.

"Tifa."

Her stomach fluttered at the sound of her name said in that now familiar voice and she turned toward Cloud, amused smile still on her face.

She found his blue eyes largely rimmed with green, but as he remained completely calm and his expression blank, she shelved her instant concern. They just did that, sometimes, she'd learned, and she was still trying to figure out why.

"Did you finish our laundry earlier?"

Eh? That was a strange question. He'd helped her with the laundry, hadn't he? She nodded.

"Everything is in our room?"

She nodded again. He was probably wondering where she'd put his SOLDIER uniform, as she'd insisted she could at least put it all away since he had already washed, dried and folded everything—sans her delicates, which she'd stashed. If he was going on a raid tonight, he'd probably want to don the uniform, try to fool some Shinra security. "Yeah, I put your stuff in the bottom drawer with your other clothes," she answered. "Is something missing?"

He shook his head. "Did you wash our quilt too?"

Crap, she'd forgotten about the damn quilt. "Um, I think it's still in the dryer."

"That's ok, I'll grab it for us." His eyes shifted, seemed to burn into Luc for a few seconds before he turned and disappeared toward her bedroom.

"Great, thanks," she shrugged before smiling again at Luc and Barret. She watched them exchange a look and blinked. "What?" she asked curiously.

Luc turned his full gaze on her again, icy blue depths somber, and he stared at her silently for a long while. She stared back, nonplussed.

"Are you his, Beauty?"

Eh? "His what?" she asked.

" _His_."

_Oh_. That's what he meant. She shook her head. "Of course not!"

He seemed to mull that over, then narrowed his eyes and said softly, "Bastard was trying to warn me off then."

"Warn you?" Tifa asked, tilted her head. "About his laundry?"

"He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd peed," Barret growled and the two of them peered back in the direction Cloud had taken off.

Tifa looked between them, followed their gazes to see…nothing, then looked back again. "He peed?"

"Naw, baby doll, if he  _woulda_ peed."

Blink. "You can sense that he needs to pee?" She didn't know how she felt about that.

"Shit, I think the guy in the corner knew Spiky wanted ta pee."

Luc shrugged, finished his ale and set it on the tray next to the pitcher she'd prepared for them. "I don't blame him for trying," he offered and stood up, picking up the tray carefully.

"Spiky headed bastard. His ass'll come in handy tonight, though," Barret admitted as Luc started for the house proper. "Be right down, kid. Needa talk to Teef right quick."

She frowned as Luc disappeared, sure she was missing something but didn't know what. "Warning? Peeing? What's going on, Care Bar'?" she asked.

Barret fixed her a firm look, what she'd learned to think of as her I-know-I-ain't-your-dad-but-you-best-listen-to-me-cuz-I-will-damn-sure-lecture-you-like-I-am look. "He ain't takin' advantage of you, is he baby doll?"

She blinked, confused. "Luc?"

"No, I'm talkin' Spiky."

"Because I put away his laundry? He actually washed all the clothes I just—"

"No, baby doll. I mean,  _takin'_   _advantage_."

She stared at him for two seconds, then burst into laughter. "Care Bar', if he even  _tried_  to take advantage of me I'd put him through four rooms with a perfectly aimed right cross." She leaned across the bar, pecked his weathered cheek. "Besides, I'm a walking nightmare cuddler and I'm usually the one taking advantage of  _him_. You know that's true."

He grumbled, for he  _did_  know it. "Ya ain't takin' advantage," he argued, "and if he feels like you are then he needs to fuckin' sleep somewhere else, like I been told ya both. Still. That whole act right there jus' made me wanna kick his ass some more—even if he agreed to come with us tonight."

She nodded. She was glad. This would work out for the best, she was sure. "What act? Besides, it's gonna be a good thing he comes along," she said and patted his big shoulder.

"Greedy little motherfucker only cares about the gil, though, Teefs," Barret warned. "It was all he talked about when we weren't discussing strategy."

Her heart did a funny little dance at his words, but she pushed it aside. "That's fine, Barret," she responded quietly. "I didn't expect any less. He doesn't know us, doesn't believe in our cause the way we do. Besides, I don't think he has much—if any—gil and this job will speak to his mercenary profession. It will all work out, you'll see." She forced a bright smile.

Dark eyes studied her for a bit, assessing, noting her fake smile. "Ya can't fool me, baby doll," he told her with a heavy sigh. "So I'm hopin' for your sake, you're right about Spiky."

She nodded. She  _was_  sure about Sp—er, Cloud, if nothing else. "I'm sure." She patted the bar twice. "Now go on, go join Luc. You've got about an hour before you have to leave and I have customers to attend to."

"Aw right, baby doll." He gave her chin a friendly chuck, much as Luc had earlier, and disappeared downstairs once more. Tifa watched him go with a pensive smile on her face, part of her mind still wondering what sort of male communication she'd missed because she lacked the proper testosterone level.

Laundry and pee. She never knew men could sense when other men needed to pee. How inconvenient—or convenient, depending upon how you viewed it.

Huh. No wonder there were never lines for the men's restrooms.


	8. Chapter 8

Tifa paced restlessly around the bar, tried not to glower at customers as they ordered their dinner and drinks. It wasn't their fault, her common sense told her, even as she was aware of her strained smile and abrupt manner. She'd done it to herself and now she had to suffer the consequences.

"Teefs, seriously, take a chill pill," Yuffie chided her as she dumped a tray of dishes none too gently on the counter. "You scared Johnny bussing his table and he thinks you shit rainbows."

Yuffie was Marlene's part-time babysitter and a part-time 7th Heaven waitress, hired on just a few months ago. Originally from Wutai where she'd recently returned from a visit, the sixteen year-old attended an exclusive Midgar academy above the plates and tutored children in the slums. She'd walked Marlene home one day and had eventually become a regular visitor.

Tifa took a deep breath now, hoping to calm her shredded nerves. "I'm trying," she said through gritted teeth and tossed an empty beer bottle into the garbage. She found the sound of shattering glass soothing and proceeded to fling a few more.

"Have a drink, get laid, smoke a cigarette," Yuffie was continuing. "Do  _something_. You've been slamming stuff around all night. Are you sure you're ok?

No, she wasn't. She was pissed.

She'd been left behind, damn it,  _benched_!

All because of one teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy, minuscule injury she'd obtained on her morning run.

It wasn't that she'd been careless, no. She was never careless when she was out there alone. She'd just been taken by surprise.

As she'd been jogging the last stretch home that morning, she'd run across a pair of Hedgehog Pies attacking a homeless man. Adrenaline still pumping from her earlier battles, she'd dived into the fray, stepping between the man and the aggressive little monsters. It was only after she'd destroyed one that she'd suddenly found herself caught by the homeless man, who turned out to be a lurking thief.

With one of his bulky arms around her throat and a knife pressed to her ribs, she hadn't been able to evade as the last Hedgehog Pie dove and slammed into them both. The impact of the blow had caused the thief's knife to dig into her side, slitting her from hip to breast even as they began to fall. The pain had been immediate but she'd rolled free as soon as the earth was beneath her back. Jumping to her feet, she'd hammered the monster with a resounding kick before turning back to dispatch the thief. When it was all said and done, she'd cursed in frustration, clutching her side as she'd hurried the rest of the way home.

The wound hadn't been severe, merely annoying, but had looked angry and had bled excessively; her white shirt had been soaked through by the time she'd made it back to 7th Heaven. It was just her luck that Barret had already been up and about, rattling in the kitchen for some coffee and caught her as she'd come charging in.

After enduring a lecture of massive proportions while trying to staunch the blood flow with a dishcloth, he'd told her, quite bluntly, that she was being taken off the mission.

"What?!" she'd yelled, gash forgotten.

"You're injured," he'd told her, "which makes you a liability."

"No way!" she'd argued. "It's just a flesh wound, Barret! I can still do my part!"

He'd shaken his head at her, dark brows drawn together in a frown. "No, baby doll, we can't take the risk. If we run into trouble, we need everyone at 100%. And you ain't 100% with that cut."

"It's  _nothing_ , Barret, a scratch—"

"No. We ain't riskin' it. You're out."

"That's not fair!" she'd retorted angrily, hands clenched into fists at her side. "I worked my ass off for this. And now you're telling me I can't come because of a little blood? That's bullshit! I've been hurt worse than this and still managed to do my part." Which was true. She could recall having been shot on a raid once and still completed her assignment.

"No, Tifa. This ain't 'bout jes' you. This is about all of us. It's different when you're hurt during a mission, not prior to. Ain't none of us gonna be able to concentrate on the job if we're worried 'bout you before we even in the building."

She'd taken a deep breath, trying for calm. "I told you, it's just a flesh wound, nothing that I can't handle. I really want to be a part—"

"You  _are_  a part of this," he'd interrupted, "but we can't bring you along anymore. And that's an order."

None of the others had been any help either. When she'd pleaded her case, even Cloud had sided with Barret— _Cloud_! They'd been teamed up on this mission, and she'd rallied to get him on as an operative. After the successful Shinra raid he'd participated in last week, Barret had been easier to convince to let him tag along—as her "protector," she'd bribed, appealing to Barret's own protective instincts. She'd thought Cloud would surely insist that he would watch her twice as closely. But no. He'd been Barret's firmest supporter instead, following her into her bedroom and forcing her to show him her wound.

"I never asked what you did when you disappeared each morning, thought you just went on a run," he'd told her, his voice edged with something like accusation. He'd reached out, dragged a tender finger along the edge of the bandage she'd peeled back.

"Well, now you know," she'd bristled even as she'd shivered at his touch.

"And Barret's right," he'd finished, staring at the cut with his mouth tight, "we can't risk you coming with us."

"Trader," she'd hissed at him, but he'd only shrugged and offered to help her bandage her wound better. She'd refused, frustrated, and slammed into the bathroom.

"Can't believe he pulled rank on me," she muttered, recalling how Barret had  _ordered_  her to stay behind. She began loading the glass washer, tried not to break anything in the process. "I'm perfectly fine. I worked my damn ass off for this operation and what happens? I get benched."

"Wow, you're really pissed you didn't get to go with them on this raid," Yuffie commented as Tifa closed the machine lid and flipped the switch. "I mean, from what you've told me, you guys have one every other week, why is this one so special?"

Tifa tried not to grimace, remembering the partial lie she'd told the sixteen year old.

While Yuffie was aware that Tifa and her housemates opposed Shinra, she didn't know about AVALANCHE, and the only way to get around that had been to share that they raided Shinra on occasion.

"I was just itching for something to do besides having to open the bar, that's all," Tifa said now, and took another deep breath. Really, she needed to calm down. The team had been gone for over an hour and she'd already stewed about it all day.

She usually didn't get so worked up but she'd been anticipating the mission, had been excited to be a part of something other than the usual break-ins. All the work they'd been doing, the planning and strategizing, she'd been a part of it all, more so than before. Sure it wasn't the most peaceable of acts but it was  _something_ , something that would change the face of AVALANCHE and show Shinra exactly how serious they took their cause. To suddenly get yanked was pure frustration.

She sighed heavily, picking up a rag to wipe the countertop.

"You know what you can do, Teefs? You can do Luc," Yuffie announced. "He just walked in. Rawr."

Luc had disappeared shortly after breakfast that morning, muttering something about "holy hell" and Tifa hadn't seen him all day. Looking up, she caught his eye as he sauntered back into the bar, noted a serious air about him.

"Hey," he greeted them, settled down at the bar.

"Hiya, Luc," Yuffie replied, fluttering her lashes. She rested her elbow on the bar top, leaning her chin on her palm. "You haven't seen me in a while."

Luc gave her a distracted smile and Tifa felt instant alarm. He was usually much more relaxed, always ready for some easy banter. "Maybe your ninja skills are improving," he answered but the response was tense.

She took in the strain around his mouth as he moved his eyes toward her. "Got some news for you, Beauty. Could be a problem."

Tifa's head came up and she dropped the rag she'd been fiddling with. Well, that sounded ominous. "What is it?"

"Just found out who your spy is."

Yuffie had perked up at that. "Spy?"

Tifa glanced at her briefly. "Someone's been spying on 7th Heaven," she explained. She turned back to Luc. "Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Don Corneo. That name ring a bell?"

Don Corneo was a crime boss, owned a mansion in Sector 6. He called himself a "connoisseur of women" and supposedly liked a different woman to share his bed every night. "He's that pervert who lives in the brothel in the Wall Market," Tifa replied, eyes narrowed. Why the hell was he spying on AVALANCHE?

"Seems he's on Shinra's payroll," Luc continued. "They put him on watch to learn about…your activities. Except he's an idiot and couldn't report anything back—at least, until today."

"Today?" What the hell had happened today?

"The Don caught a 'roly-poly' figure spray painting something in the Sector 1 slums."

Oh  _shit_. Tifa's heart dropped. Roly-poly could only describe one man: Wedge. As far as spray painting, she knew Biggs and Wedge had a tendency to spray paint "AVALANCHE" all over the slums in tiny attempts at provoking Shinra. "Foreshadowing," Wedge often called it.

Damn it all. What did Corneo know? How  _much_  did he know? She hadn't felt the unease of being watched today—but she hadn't exactly been in the right frame of mind either.

"How much time do we have?" Tifa muttered, fear churning her gut. What could she do? She needed a plan and fast.

Luc shrugged. "A day, maybe, not enough to wait until everyone gets back, that's for sure. I already had my guys scramble communications from the brothel but from what I know, the Turks are due to meet with Corneo tomorrow and then…"

Tifa nodded vaguely as a plan began to form. She could do something—she  _would._  "One night is all I need," she told him before turning to Yuffie. "Yuffie, can you close up after dinner tonight? I'm going out."

Yuffie looked at her, swung her gaze to Luc, looked back. "Uhhh. Sure, Teefs, but where are you going?" she asked.

"Whoa, Beauty, just a second," Luc interrupted, doubt evident on his face. "What are you planning?"

"Well, supposedly Corneo likes a new girl every night, right? Well, I plan on being his new girl tonight."

"What?!"

She shrugged. "I'm going to disguise myself as a hooker and get picked as Corneo's girl tonight. It's the fastest way to get in and out of his mansion without having to break in and sneak around. We simply don't have time. I have to find out how much they know so that we can decide what to do."

"No, it's too dangerous, I can't let you." Luc shook his head at her. "There are too many variables. What if he doesn't choose you, what then? How are you gonna get the information from him? Just ask him? How do you plan to get out of there?"

She looked at him, determination in her gaze. "You can't stop me and I can handle it. Look, Luc, if you want to help, fine. You can come with me. You can be like—my pimp. If I don't get chosen, you can pull rank and get me out of there. We'll discuss the details on the way there. For now—for now I have to start getting ready because there's simply no time to waste."

She could feel her energy drumming. It would feel good to do something,  _anything_  to help AVALANCHE, especially after the frustrating day she'd just spent.

It was a long moment before Luc answered, and she could feel the tension coiled in him. She stared into his eyes and let her stubborn ambition show, unwilling to back down. Whether or not Luc agreed, she was going to do what she was going to do. He could either be with her—or she would leave him behind.

"Fine," Luc agreed, and she nodded before she took off.

What the hell was she gonna wear?

* * *

As Cloud used his sword to shield against an onslaught of bullets, his only thought was that he was damn glad Tifa wasn't with them.

Things had started to fall apart as soon they'd entered the reactor.

The original plan was to have each AVALANCHE member—initially Tifa and himself as a pair and sans Jessie, who would remain on the perimeter in control of communications and technical support—be responsible for their own bomb, splitting up the team to expedite their activities. That had gone to hell fast with President Shinra, of all the people on the Planet, suddenly deciding that very day for a surprise tour of the plant. He'd shown up with a staff big enough to settle a small country and begun marching all around the premises.

Wedge had gotten trapped as the President and his entourage had barreled through, having to hide in the rafters for over an hour before slipping his bomb into place.

Barret had managed to set his bomb, but his path out of the reactor had been barred by a group of Shinra grunts, too many to dispatch and not create a scene. He'd ended up circling around and meeting up with Biggs instead.

Initially a good idea, it had come to fruition later that Biggs' means of escape, via the air duct system, was too small to fit someone of Barret's stature. His cursing had been near visible as he'd sent Biggs on his way instead, and encouraged Wedge to sneak out as fast as humanly possible once he saw his chance also.

Cloud had listened to all their communications via his headphone without a word, having had to travel the deepest into the reactor core to position his bomb, much deeper than President Shinra and his team wanted to travel. He'd had to fight off nausea as he'd passed by tanks and tanks of R-Mako, the glowing green somehow causing the endless static in his head to drum louder than usual. Something about Mako and circular containers made his skin crawl.

He'd arrived at his destination, a vault like chamber lit with flickering fluorescent lights. The location was eerily familiar, as if he'd been there before—or somewhere similar. Double checking the coordinates hastily scribbled on his hand, he'd placed the bomb on the center console and engaged the manual trigger so that Jessie could arm the bomb once they were far, far away.

He'd left then, sneaking behind a couple of grunts as they patrolled the inner core. He'd spent the next few minutes hunting in the unlit corners of the plant, seeking the ladder Jessie had assured him was available. He needed to climb up, as his escape route was through the roof of the building, then across two hundred yards of scaffolding just under the plates. He would then descend in a construction elevator. He knew, as Barret asked Jessie to prepare to trigger lights, that he would see Barret up there.

They'd met at the top and had nearly even escaped, making it across the first stretch of treacherous steel without issue. It was then some crazy, tank size robot had showed up and started shooting lightning at them every time it had a seizure. It was damn annoying, especially since it had somehow gotten between him and Barret, effectively dividing them. He could see the elevator just beyond the robot's top edge, on the opposite side of where he stood.

Barret, thank Shiva, was doing his best to draw the scrap metal's attention, returning the machine's gunfire with a rat-tat-tat of his own. All Cloud needed was one clear hit and he could take out what seemed like the brain of the thing, a shaking, shivering box located just to the left of the gun arm.

"Cover me," he called as the machine appeared to be charging to send another blast of lightning. Barret roared in answer and blasted the creature with a glowing, red orb. It was the opening Cloud had been waiting for, and he was up and rushing forward, sword at the ready as he sprinted toward the machine and leapt into the air.

He brought Buster Sword down hard in a high arc, aiming for the extended gun barrel of the machine before it had a chance to discharge. The sound of a choking boom echoed, followed by a spew of black smoke but there was no time to waste. He landed easily on both feet and spun almost immediately, turning to stab his sword into the wired box beside the gun. He lifted upward, slicing cables and lines and taking off nearly half the top metal covering of the steel beast.

"Fuck yeah!" he heard Barret shout as he backed away a few steps.

The thing sputtered, seizing, and bolts of electricity seemed to scream through it. Once, twice, it shook terribly, spitting out screws and gears as Cloud ducked, once again using his sword to deflect the flying debris. With one last shudder and pop, it seemed to sink into itself and the thunderous groaning of shifting metal came to an end.

He stood slowly, warily, as Barret swore at the heap from the other side. Something rolled out of a hidden pocket of the machine, glowing green and round, the size of a marble. Materia? He stalked forward, swept the orb off the floor and pocketing it, even as he wondered what the hell a machine was doing with materia.

"Piece of fucking shit. All that ruckus probably drew Shinra's attention. We gotta bounce, Spiky," Barret called, started to back away. He waved. "Come on."

Cloud nodded, knew he was right, but hesitated, peering at a plate of steel as it tipped to the ground, almost as if something—or some _one_  had pushed it forward. He heard a too human groan sound, followed by the appearance of fingers, then a pair of hands and arms emerged. He gripped his sword again, eyes narrowed as he moved forward silently.

"Help me," he heard as a body crawled out from the confines of the metal. It was a Shinra grunt, a young one at that, with blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth as he spotted Cloud standing over him. "Please, help me. It's gonna blow."

"C'mon, Spike, let's go!" Cloud heard Barret call. "What the fuck is the hold up?"

Damn, he couldn't just leave the kid—and he was just a kid, no older than himself when he'd left everything he'd loved to try and become something more. Sheathing his sword, he stepped forward, grasped the kid's hand and pulled.

"Hurry, mister, we gotta hurry, Air Buster's gonna blow—"

A pinching noise suddenly pierced the air, as if something was charging and he could feel the machine tensing to explode.  _Shit_ , he cursed, and tucked forward, dragging the kid onto his shoulder. He hurdled onto the back of the vibrating steel, grunting at the impact of his landing. He had to get the kid out of here.

"Barret!" Cloud called and saw the big man come sprinting back from the elevator. He estimated two, maybe three seconds before the tension of the machine came to a head. "Catch!" He threw the body he was holding as far as he could, watching as Barret skid and caught the kid.

" _What the fuck are you doin', Spiky_?!"

The machine moaned, trembling, shaking, and exploded in a shower of discs and cogs.

Cloud felt the metal shift, destroying the scaffolding beneath it and he reached out blindly in an effort to find something, anything to hold on to as he began to fall. He'd been lucky, having stood on a flat covering of the machine that had taken most of the impact. He kicked at the piece of collapsing metal in an effort to retain some height and his seeking hand met a jagged edge. Grunting, he gripped hard, the sharp edges slitting his palm as his weight caused him to slide. Below him, the machine whistled as it dropped into whatever darkness lay below.

"Holy  _fuck_ , Spike!" Barret hollered, having tossed the kid aside and was now leaning over the edge of the destroyed scaffolding. His string of curses burned long and loud as he realized Cloud was hanging onto the platform on the opposite edge of him, a good twenty yards away. " _FUCK_ , hold on! Hold on while I figure somethin' out!"

But the blood coating his grip was slippery and Cloud could feel his hand sliding, trails of red dripping down along his wrist. "I'm slipping," he said and flexed his fingers, the purchase of his grasp slithering loose. Ah, mighty Ifrit, he was going to fall.

He blinked once, aching for the glint of carmine eyes as the blood became too slick. He had only one thought. "Take care of Tifa," he asked when the feel of wet against steel disappeared and he followed the machine down into the foggy depths below.

* * *

"Hello, hello?"

The sound of a voice calling a greeting came from far away, muffled and faint as if under water. Cloud groaned as tried to move, muscles screaming as he hurt  _everywhere_. Head, neck, body, arms and legs. Was he even alive? He could smell flowers of all things, all around him, the aroma seeping into his nostrils. Flowers…? Did such things exist in hell?

Groggily, every sinew protesting, he rolled from his back onto his side, clutching his ribs at the sudden shooting pain there. Ifrit, he must've cracked them when he'd landed. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself into a sitting position, distantly praying there were no enemies nearby but knowing he had to be on his feet just in case.

A flash of black hair and violet eyes flickered.

_No one to watch my back anymore._

"Hello, hello!" the voice came again, light and feminine from behind him somewhere. "You okay?"

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the overlapping voices in his head, rose to his knees. He didn't have time for a breakdown right now. He needed to figure out where the hell he was.

"Where am I?" he asked, taking a punishing breath and pushing up to his feet. He glanced around, noted a bed of flowers and rows of pews, stained glass windows that filtered in shifting lights. A quick glance upward showed splintered wood and beams.

A flutter of pink appeared in his peripheral vision, before soft hands gripped his arm as he swayed, and he found himself the focus of a pair of pretty green eyes. "This is a church in the Sector 5 Slums," the girl said, brow furrowed with concern. "You scared me when you fell. The roof and my flower bed broke your fall."

"…sorry about that," he muttered down at her, taking in her wrinkled brow and pale, porcelain features. She was beautiful, in an ethereal fashion, with brown-hair shades lighter than what he woke to each morning, drawn back in a neat plait. She wore a light pink dress and a deeper pink jacket over it, covering her slender form.

"You're hurt," she announced as he shifted. He figured he must've dislocated a shoulder as well. Carefully, he withdrew his arm, searching for his sword.

It couldn't have gotten far, he thought, trying not to panic.

"I'm all right," he uttered, and spotted Buster Sword lying several feet away. He picked it up hastily, ignoring the white-hot pain shelling up his arm. He didn't feel complete until the sword was sheathed behind him.

A gasp sounded. "Where…is that sword yours?" came the hum of her chiming voice again and Cloud turned to look at her strangely, wondering why her breath had hitched.

"Yes." He strained his hearing, listening for threats. Sector 5, the girl had informed him. It would be at least an hour hike back with aching  _everything_  but he was safest there, at least temporarily. Tifa was there and she would be worried. He needed to get back to 7th Heaven.

"Let me help you, I'm a healer," the girl insisted, and he refocused on her instantly.

"You have Cure?" he asked, and watched as she hesitated, nodded.

Cure was good. He needed at least a little to help him return in his current state. With his amount of injuries, it would take him five times as long to get back, and that was on a trip that didn't include the inevitable monsters he'd meet along the way.

"Great, I can pay you," he offered, and watched as her expression changed to one of surprise. He recalled Tifa's indignant expression when he'd offered her the same thing.

Women obviously didn't like being paid by him. He wondered if that was a good thing.

"Oh no, please, I don't need your gil," she answered. She gestured toward a lone chair shoved up against the back of the closest pew. "If you would sit, it will be easier for me to help you."

He nodded, limped over to the chair slowly and eased himself in. Each step had brought a shooting pain up his calf. Damn, had he shattered something in there too? He frowned down at his leg, unaware that the girl was standing at his elbow, her hands outstretched and glowing with light.

"I need you to relax just a little bit," she said softly, and he tried not flinch at the sound of her voice. The static in his head was thrumming, louder than usual and her voice so near seemed to trigger a buzz. "We'll just talk a while, ok? The more relaxed you are, the more effective the Cure."

He managed a nod, aching.

"What do you do for a living? How did you end up falling into my church?"

He wanted to grunt in answer, head throbbing. "I'm a mercenary." Gods, he needed Tifa. Only she could make the buzzing go away. "I was on a mission and got separated from my team."

"A mercenary…So you're paid to take jobs. How long have you been doing that?"

A flash of white scrambled his thoughts, flipping and spinning. "A while." His voice was strained, taut. He didn't want to talk, couldn't, but he could listen. "What do you do?"

"I sell flowers, tend to them and vend them around the slums." She laughed, the sound buoyant and joyful. "Not the best of professions but I'm good at it."

Hadn't she said she they were in the slums? How the hell did she get flowers to grow without sunlight?

She laughed again, the same weightless sound. "There's a crack in the Sector 5 plate above that allows sunlight to filter through," she answered, and he realized he'd voiced his questions aloud. "There are several cracks actually, although the one hovering over this church is the smallest. Another one shines over a field where I live with my mom…"

Her voice became distant again as she talked, and he clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the tone of her voice instead of the words. Airy and even, he could hear the delight she felt, speaking of flowers and the care of them.

The feel of something cool and somehow  _green_  washed over him, the sensation soothing and bright. His eyes closed as he felt the tension ebb from his legs, arms, neck. Another blast, this one longer, stronger, slithered over him like ice over burns and he felt his body shifting and changing, healing.

Soft fingers smoothed along his temple, petting and gentle. "Is that better?" asked a quiet voice.

Eyes he didn't know he'd closed opened, found and held shiny green. "Thank you," he answered with a sincere nod. "I'm grateful for your help."

He allowed delicate fingers to tilt his head for inspection. "You're so handsome. And your eyes are so blue…" she said almost reverently, a dancing touch trailing across his forehead, one hand brushing back the locks of his hair. "I could lose myself in them."

Her touch was…uncomfortable, not unpleasant exactly but unfamiliar and made him tense. He shook himself free, rose to his feet.

"I should go," he told her, rolled his shoulder experimentally. It felt good, whole. He drew a deep breath, could still feel tender ribs but he knew the Mako would soon make quick work of the last few pangs. "Thanks again." He turned toward the door, prepared to leave when he heard the distant sound of approaching footsteps. How far? Maybe two hundred yards, a bit less. Had they found him already?

"Wait!" she called, and he found his arm grasped again. Pale fingers seemed to clutch at him, pleading. "I didn't even get your name. I'm Aerith."

Aerith… _Aerith…_

The name reverberated in his head, ringing clear through the static.

Did he…did he know her?

Aerith…

His eyes flickered, trying to recall as he turned back to look at her. He could hear a voice in his head…that other self…

… _need to love her…she needed love…_

The pink ribbon in her hair glinted.

Letters.

_Did he…did he know her?_

"I—" he started, but the footsteps were closing in rapidly.

"Please, I need your help," Aerith said in an urgent voice, and the grasp she had on his arm slid into his fingers, clinging. "I—there's no time. Please, I need a bodyguard. Can I hire you? I don't want to go with them. I don't have any gil but maybe…Someone once offered me a date in exchange for something. I can take you out, I promise. Something…"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Cloud swung around toward the sound of that voice, familiar but vague. A lanky red-head greeted him, dressed in an undone collared shirt and a crisp blue suit, a pair of goggles high on his head. He was flanked by several Shinra grunts, each with their helmets low on their heads. He searched his memories, trying to place the figure. How did he know him…?

"Leave me alone," Aerith demanded, and he felt her step behind him, his hand squeezed tightly. He could feel her tension, something that was akin to fear but held mostly resistance. "Hurry, there's an exit behind us," she whispered, tugging.

"A SOLDIER 1st Class," the red-head said, and stalked forward, his expression scornful. "Seems you like to collect them, Aerith."

Collect them…?

"Please," he heard her plead again and felt desperate tug. "If we leave now we can escape through the back."

He nodded, responding to her anxiety. He pulled his hand free. "Go. I'll follow," he insisted, reaching for Buster Sword. "I won't let you get hurt."

"Thank you so much!" she answered, and he felt the press of her hand on his lower back before she retreated.

"You're one of us," the red-head said as Cloud listened to Aerith's footsteps become faint. "We need you to report in once you've figured out where you're taking her."

Cloud glared at the red-head, searching for a name. He  _knew_  the man, had seen him before, many times…"I don't have anything to do with Shinra and SOLDIER anymore," he announced, taking a slow step backward.

The red-head smirked. "A deserter," he said, and swung the rod he held in his hands. "I see. I heard Tseng mention one during the last meeting. We're supposed to bring you in."

Cloud said nothing, took another step backward.  _Reno._ The name came to him then. "The Turks can try, Reno," he taunted, and could feel the Mako in his blood pumping.

Reno took notice, seemed to hesitate. "Mako eyes…"

He nodded and for once was glad for the green burn. "We'll meet again, I'm sure." And he turned and ran, listening as his new assignment's heart began beating faster.

What the hell had he just gotten himself into?


	9. Chapter 9

The Honey Bee Inn was unlike anything Tifa could have imagined. Big and loud, a sign posted in the lobby promised over twenty private rooms, five of which were themed, and a show club with performances twice a night—performing what she could only speculate.

There were half dressed girls everywhere, most in bee costumes, some in sheer nightgowns and lingerie, other's simply topless sauntering to and fro. She was surprised to feel overdressed—and she was practically naked. Walking beside Luc with his hand pressed firmly along her lower back, she tried to look as if she belonged—instead of extremely curious.

On the trip over, Luc had given her as many details as he could on the brothel, detailing the layout and spouting any rules he knew about. Three levels and a basement, two for the use of customers and working girls, the top level used exclusively by Corneo. Supposedly, the mansion housed over a hundred working girls a night, and only the girls and paying customers were ever allowed into the brothel proper. Others were forced to wait in a bar just off the lobby.

As one of the girls vying for Corneo's attention—not an uncommon practice as Corneo offered more gil to the selected girl than most working girls earned in a month—she would be escorted to the basement to await his presence. If chosen, she would then be led to his private quarters where her photo and measurements would be taken—and then broadcast throughout the brothel as the "special" girl of the evening.

She wanted to chop, rip, smash Corneo's balls off even more after hearing that. How utterly humiliating. How much she wanted to make him pay for all of his debasing acts.

"If you don't get chosen," Luc was saying now as they waited in a short line, "they'll bring you back up, put you in with the regular girls in the back. I'll have to 'hire' your services for the evening and then we're out of here." He'd eyed her up and down, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I don't think that's going to happen."

She glanced down at herself uncertainly.

After digging through her closet and realizing she'd had nothing suitable to wear as a hooker—strange how that had upset her at the time—she'd dashed to Jessie's room to scour through the costumes the red-head had stashed. Discarding outfit after outfit, she'd finally come across the smallest, most inappropriate piece of fabric that she'd ever seen.

Made of shimmering spandex in a rich, cobalt blue, the "dress" boasted long sleeves, a hem that barely covered her behind, and a plunging V-neckline that didn't end until just above her belly button. She'd donned it quickly and had peered at herself with speculative eyes, irritated to see that the bandage from her wound had been showing. She'd called to Luc then, knew he probably had a Restore materia on him.

He'd arrived and had stared and stared at her silently, that same muscle ticking in his cheek. After prompting him more than once to Cure her, he'd simply spat, " _You can't wear that!"_ and ignored her request.

Eventually, he'd done as she'd asked and healed her, but had argued with her about wearing the dress throughout her makeup application, while she fussed with her hair, lecturing relentlessly up until the cab had showed up and she'd climbed inside.

Staring down at herself now, Tifa couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Luc had been right, and though he'd surely meant for her to have worn something less revealing, she thought she should've just shown up in some lingerie.

"We'll see," she muttered, tried not to tug at the hem of the dress even as she considered slipping into the restroom and just taking it off completely. She needed to get chosen, damn it. She eyed the Honey Bee workers thoughtfully, noting all the braless chests and fishnet stockings.

Was that the kind of girl Corneo was looking for? Could she somehow fit the bill?

"Can I help you?"

Thoughts interrupted, Tifa turned to see a petite, extravagantly dressed man in a lime green suit speaking to them.

"Yes, I'm here to sign up my girl for Corneo's inspection," Luc replied from beside her.

Lime Green nodded, his eyes assessing as he eyed her. "New girl, I'm assuming?" he asked.

Well, damn, was it that obvious?

"New—but broken in," Luc assured him, sliding his arm around her waist and pressing her into his side. "Heard Corneo liked them fresh but with a body like this, how could I resist a sample?"

She knew he was purposely being insulting, yet she couldn't help but want to knee Luc in the groin anyway.

He noticed her tension, squeezed her hip in warning.

What was it Yuffie had called to her as she'd left? Oh yes.

She forced a giggle—she  _hated_  giggling, much preferred simple laughter—and let her body go lax, leaning into Luc. "Thanks,  _daddy_ ," she tittered, tried for a come-hither smile.

Lime Green nodded, seeming to agree with Luc. "Great body, great face. Corneo prefers blondes but he might make an exception for this one." He held out a clipboard to them. "Just need some information from you. Bring it up when you're finished and we'll get you further instructions."

Shoot, he liked blondes? She was far from blonde.

Luc accepted the clipboard with a smile. "Thanks," he answered, and led her toward a hightop table.

While Luc muttered and completed the multiple forms Lime Green had given them, she stood quietly and observed the bustling activity in the lobby. Several girls hovered around a slender, older man in a bright white suit, another group of costumed girls stood beside a huge beehive chattering away. She noted a svelte brunette in a slinky red teddy flirting with one of the bouncers, her eyes glassy and vague. She couldn't have been but a teenager, though her eyes…They were eyes that had seen too much, knew too much and Tifa understood exactly what it was that had driven the brunette down her path.

It could have easily been herself standing there.

How completely impossible the brunette must've felt, how absolutely abandoned without hope or means of an escape. Tifa had felt that once.

She recalled how utterly alone she had been at fifteen, how hard she'd clutched the small bag of gil and scribbled note Master Zangan had left her; they had been her only reminder that at least one other person on the Planet knew her name. She remembered sleeping in abandoned buildings, running from security after being caught, huddling next to fires to keep warm then throwing up whatever food she'd managed to scour because the smell of smoke reminded her of everything she'd lost.

She'd dreamed of blue eyes constantly back then, of being safe and secure, and had clutched those dreams even tighter than the bag of gil while praying that maybe, just maybe, there were two people on the Planet that remembered her.

She'd cheated, stolen and lied to survive. How many fake addresses had she scribbled on applications, how many false skills? During a stretch of time where she hadn't eaten in several days, she could recall seeing a working girl disappear in an alley with a john, then return clutching a handful of gil. It couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty, but oh, how much she'd envied the girl when she'd hastened to a diner to fill her stomach.

It had been that night when finally, finally, someone had taken a chance and given her a job waiting tables. She'd had to fight off the owner's unwanted attentions but it had still been a blessing—her sign that she was meant for something else. Six months she'd lived nowhere—and everywhere. Six months she'd learned every hollow and crevice of the slums—and just how deep and dark hunger and self-preservation could take someone.

Had she considered selling her body? No, but she recognized the fighting need for survival.

"Hey, you all right?"

Luc's deep voice drew her from her thoughts and she blinked, turning away from the brunette. "Yes, sorry, just thinking," she answered. "Are we ready?"

Icy blue eyes appraised her silently, mistaking the memories swirling in her dark-cherry gaze. "We don't have to do this, Tifa," he told her, his voice gentle.

She shook her head. "Yes, we do, and it has to be now." Still he hesitated, until she raised a brow at him and added, "I  _will_  do this alone."

He glared at her then. "Fine," he replied, and grabbed her arm as they made their way back toward Lime Green.

"Great," Lime Green said after a quick glance at the paperwork. "Just a quick overview of the terms and conditions you have agreed to. If you are selected, gil will only be paid after performing for Don Corneo, and as you have—" Lime Green glanced at the paperwork again "—Mister Luc Juice listed as your employer, he will receive the funds. If you are not selected tonight, you will still have to earn at least five hundred gil working in the regular house before you are released. Honey Bee Inn will take a twenty-five percent cut that will  _not_  apply towards the amount owed. Any questions?"

Tifa shook her head, trying to look relaxed when really she wanted to punch Lime Green in the face. She could see a list of prices behind her and it would take  _hours_  to earn a hundred gil, much less six-hundred and twenty-five.

"Then you're all ready, Tiffany Cinnamon. You will not be allowed to bring any personal effects with you, and will be searched before Kotch escorts you to the waiting area with the other girls. Don Corneo has just returned to the premises and will be making a selection within the hour." He nodded at Luc. "Mister Juice, you are welcome to wait in the lobby bar. Any food and drinks you have may be added to the wages Miss Cinnamon will earn tonight."

"I'll just have a word with her before she come with you," Luc informed him

"Of course, sir." Lime Green nodded and waved them away.

"Tiffany Cinnamon?" she muttered to Luc as they moved aside. "Luc Juice?"

He gave her a brilliant smile in response. "I  _know_ ," he replied before sliding an arm around her waist again, icy blue gaze suddenly serious. "I trust you can take care of yourself, Tiffany Cinnamon, but if shit gets real, you need to get out as fast as possible. I'm going to put a change of clothes in the dumpster behind the building for you, along with your gloves and a PHS. If all goes well, I'll meet you at the Sector 5 park."

She nodded. "I'll be fine, Pimp Juice."

Icy blue swirled. "Please be careful, Beautiful Girl. I need to see you again."

She could see the concern in his gaze and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Luc, it will all be ok."

He seemed to swallow her words slowly, then leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek, soft and gentle, before giving her a final squeeze and releasing her.

She turned to Lime Green then, attempted a sultry smile and batted the nerves in her belly. "I'm ready," she announced, and followed as he ushered her away.

* * *

"Wait here."

Tifa wanted to kick something as Corneo's muscle—nose bleeding—shut the door on her, leaving her in silence. Wait?! All she'd done all night was _wait_! Wait and wait and wait. This room was the fourth room she'd been shoved into and told to "wait." The hell was she waiting for? It had been over an hour!

After Lime Green had passed her onto Kotch, she'd been brought down to the basement and put in a lounge with several other girls. With pink walls plastered with tasteless paintings, sleazy music, tacky furniture complete with a furry rug and round bed, the lot of them had waited. Some of the girls had chatted with one another, though the banter had been mocking and fake, others, like Tifa, had simply sat in silence.

Endless replays of the same bow-chicka-bow-wow song later, a man had come in and had divided the girls into two groups: blondes and everyone else. Leading the team of others, he'd ushered them into a brightly painted room opposite the lounge and had directed them to stand facing a mirror. A two-way mirror, Tifa had assumed, and had squared her shoulders, attempting to look sexy—but having no idea what "looking sexy" actually entailed.

Another long while she'd remained, silent but for the horrible music. She'd shifted, tried not to fidget, made sure not to make eye contact as she stood shoulder to shoulder with six other girls. Then they'd been divided again, herself with a raven-haired girl, and put into the third room.

That room had been much the same of the previous, with a mirror lined wall and awful music. She'd stood again, beside the other girl wile peering at own her tousled hair and red painted mouth. She really didn't look like herself at all, looked like someone else completely. How the hell had she gotten her eyes to look so big and her mouth so full? Did the blue dress really make her skin that much more golden?

A voice had appeared over the music then, had asked them to turn, turn, bend. Bend? Not bloody likely in her current getup. She'd blatantly refused while the other girl had dutifully submitted. When the muscle in the room had grabbed her arm to force her compliance, she'd jabbed him in the face with her elbow before realizing her mistake. Only it had worked in her favor as the voice over the intercom had laughed heartily.

"Feisty," the voice had said. "I like that. Send her on through."

And that was how she'd ended up thrust into the fourth room.

At least the latest room wasn't playing that godsawful music. It was brightly lit and well-sized but nearly bare, medicinal almost. As she turned around and took it all in, she realized it reminded her of a strange examination room, complete with a scale and an exam table. Along one wall was a shelf stacked with boxes of vinyl gloves and tubes of—lubricant, she realized as she stepped closer. There was a single, rolling stool and two sad chairs propped up against a white wall. She looked in the corners, expecting to find the cameras that had been apparent in all the other rooms but was met empty space.

_Don't want prying eyes to see what goes on in here_ , she thought scornfully, feeling herself tense. Exactly what did they do in that room? She itched to bloody more than a nose.

The sound of a door opening drew her attention and she tried not to drop into her fighting stance, though every instinct screamed for her to. It was the bleeding muscle again, clutching his face but this time with someone in tow. Tifa watched as the muscle shoved a girl clothed in swirling red into the room.

"Ow, no need to be so rough," the girl was saying, stumbling. She glared at the door as it pulled close. "It's not my fault your nose is bleeding."

"It's mine," Tifa offered and gained the girl's attention.

The other girl was petite and slender, dressed in a long, elegant red dress that was much too fresh to belong to someone in a brothel. With light-brown hair coiled in soft ringlets, her face was pure beauty, made of alabaster skin and the brightest green eyes Tifa had ever seen. Delicate lips curved in a friendly smile as their gazes caught and held.

"Oh,  _hi_!" the girl exclaimed, and held out a hand as she stepped forward. "I'm glad that someone much smaller than him made him bleed. I'm Aerith."

Tifa blinked at her good-natured approach. Nearly all the girls she'd met that evening had been snide and superior, yet this one seemed highly amicable. It made Tifa question the complete contrast.

"Hi," Tifa replied, warily accepting the girl's outstretched hand. She gave the girl another once over, pondering why the other woman didn't look like a working girl either.

Something fishy was definitely going on and, whatever it was, wasn't setting off any of her hackles. What on Gaia was she missing?

Green eyes sparkled at her. "You're Tifa," the girl stated with a nod. "It's nice to finally meet you."

_Eh?_

Tifa blinked again, trying to recall the girl's face in her memory and failing.  _How the hell does she know my name_? she wondered, waiting for her honed defensive instincts to kick-in and feeling baffled when they didn't.

The girl—Aerith—laughed, a charming, radiant sound and clasped her hands. Her bracelets jingled daintily, much like her laughter. "Don't be alarmed! I'm a friend," she said and nodded again. "I saw you with Luc in a cab on your way here."

Tifa gaped some more, thoughts fumbling as they tried to align with the fact that the strange person in front of her knew far too much about her when she'd only spoken but three words.

Instincts be damned. Being surrounded by so much lascivious activity must've damaged her "honed" instincts and Tifa followed the suspicions in the back of her mind. Guardedly, she replied, "So, uhh, Aerith? I've gotta tell you: you're  _really_  good at this game."

Another chiming laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm explaining things badly. I'm a friend of Cloud's."

_What the hell was going on?_ The girl knew Cloud too?

But Aerith was continuing, bowling over Tifa's obvious confusion. "I'm so glad I found you! I was worried for a bit, getting put into all the rooms. It was so much like a test, wasn't it? Except the answers are always changing. Anyway, you're very lucky to have such a devoted boyfriend in Cloud."

Even in her state of bemusement, Tifa knew those words were a deep sea fishing expedition, and though something inside her hesitated, she complied with Aerith's unasked, not-very-subtle question and answered, "Cloud's not my boyfriend." But that wasn't what she wanted to deal with and so asked her forefront most question. "How is it that you know me  _and_ Luc  _and_  Cloud?" Because it was like an alternate reality, where someone mentioned the three of them in one breath and it wasn't her AVALANCHE team.

Shiva, did Aerith know Marlene? Was that where she'd come by all their names? Was Aerith a teacher or aide or some school staff of sort? Marlene was the only outlying factor that Tifa could think of.

"Oh!" Aerith shook her head. "I'm so bad at this. Let me try again. I'm—"

But Aerith never got to finish her thought as the door was cracked open again, and another body was pushed into the room. The body stumbled, much as Aerith had, before it turned to face her.

And Tifa could only stare. And stare.

And stare.

He wore a silky, purple dress tied with a red sash that sat clunky and graceless on his form, his muscular arms near bursting the sleeves. On his head was a diamond tiara and he  _reeked_  of some musky cologne, something Tifa was sure was supposed to smell sexy—but only hurt her nostrils as she inhaled. His golden hair was just as spiky as usual except he'd somehow grown two pigtails, both perfectly braided and lying on either side of his broad shoulders. And was he wearing… was that makeup?

"Cl-Cloud?" she gawked, unblinking. His kohl lined eyes were heavy and dark, his cheeks a glowing pink, coral lipstick smeared.

He looked absolutely  _ridiculous_.

Except he didn't answer, seemed to be trapped in the same state of utter bewilderment as herself.

" _Tifa,_ " he breathed finally, eyes wide as they swept over her. He took a fumbling step forward, as if in a trance.

"Isn't he pretty?"

At the sound of Aerith's voice, Tifa began to grin, so wide and big her cheeks hurt.

Aerith tilted her head as she came to stand beside Tifa and they both gazed at Cloud. "I had trouble finding shoes for him so got the tiara to compensate," she shared.

Tifa choked as she noticed Cloud was still clad in his heavy boots. "How…why…" She struggled to suppress her laughter, pressing her lips together.

"Well, he wanted to get in here and they only allow females," Aerith explained thoughtfully. "He refused when I first mentioned he'd have to dress up, but he didn't seem to mind once I reminded him it was the only way to get to you."

Tifa could only nod, Aerith's words not really registering as she concentrated on taking deep, even breaths in an attempt to tame her amusement. Cloud stared back at them, looking both affronted and forlorn.  _Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh_. She tore her eyes away, focused on Aerith.

"I—ok. Er…would you finish your story? On how you got to be here?"

"Oh!" Aerith clapped her hands together. "That's right! Before we got interrupted by Cloudina."

"…oh gods…" Tifa choked again, carefully covered her mouth with her hand so as not to smear her lipstick or burst into guffaws.

"Cloud sort of fell through my church in the Sector 5 slums."

She risked a glance back at Cloud, eyes questioning. "Fell?" she repeated.

"He said he got separated from his team and fell from the plate above, landed in my flower bed. When he woke up, he was hurt pretty severely. I did my best to Cure him and that's when the Turks showed up."

Each word that Aerith spoke sobered Tifa like nothing else and her eyes grew serious. "The Turks?" she echoed. One of them had shot her during that raid so long ago. Had they discovered AVALANCHE's operation? Was she already too late?

Aerith nodded. "They…they watch me sometimes, want me to join with Shinra but I don't want to. I asked Cloud to be my bodyguard because he mentioned he was a mercenary, and he helped me escape. As we were headed to Sector 7, he spotted you and Luc in a cab so we followed."

That explained most of it, and Tifa felt herself relax a little. She wasn't too late, there was still time. Though she had questions about why the Turks were watching Aerith, her first focus was on Cloud.

She let her eyes measure him again, seeking obvious injuries, no matter that Aerith had said she'd healed him. Was it a trick of the makeup or was he too pale? His eyes were mostly blue but the green rim was pulsing and thick. Concerned, she moved to stand in front of him, placed a soft hand against the center of his chest. He liked that, she'd noticed, always seemed reluctant to release her hand from that position each morning.

"Are you ok?" she asked quietly as she stared hard into his eyes. She still hadn't quite figured out why they turned green, but she knew she needed to make it go away.

He seemed to sag at her touch, as if some of the tension he carried had somehow evaporated, and his hand automatically rose to cover hers. "Yeah," he replied, and closed his eyes briefly. "Thanks."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure what she'd done. "What happened?" she asked, brows drawn together. How had he gotten separated from the rest of the team? Was everyone all right?

He shook his head. "I'll explain later," he answered, and his eyes shifted behind her.

Crap, she'd forgotten about Aerith. Yes, later was definitely a good idea.

"What are you doing here, Tifa?" he asked, and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Luc found out who the culprit is," she hastened as vaguely as possible, in case someone was listening. "I came here to find out what they know."

Blue eyes flickered. "And you have to go to the top?" he asked.

"Yes."

Slowly, he nodded.

Tifa turned to Aerith, her mouth tight. How she'd gotten involved, Tifa wasn't sure, but she needed to somehow keep the slender girl safe. "Thank you for your help, Aerith," she said. "I'm sorry you had to get involved. We'll get you back home as soon as possible."

Slim shoulders shrugged, green gaze watchful as they returned hers.

"No matter who the don chooses, we'll reconvene at my place." Gods, she hoped Cloud had mentioned 7th Heaven to Aerith, she certainly didn't want to say the name aloud if she could help it. "Do you know where that is, Aerith?"

Her light-brown head nodded, seemed to understand the lack of specifics. "Yes, Cloud mentioned it by name. I've never been there but I can find my way."

"Good. We'll stick together as much as possible but just in case—"

She was interrupted, again by the door swinging open. She slipped her hand from Cloud's chest quickly and stepped closer to Aerith, not knowing if the girl could defend herself. Two of Corneo's muscle huddled inside, followed by a rotund man in a red fur coat. He had a single strip of blonde hair down the top of his head and a cigar hanging from the side of his mouth. The Don, she assumed, and tried not to sneer.

"All right, ladies," one of the muscles said and Tifa recognized him as Kotch. "Line up in front of the Don."

She heard Aerith move beside her but step away as Cloud shouldered himself in between the pair of them, leaving her and Aerith to each flank his sides.

"Hmmm," Corneo mused and paced back and forth in front of them, his eyes eager and excited as he blatantly inspected them all from head to foot. There was something inherently sinister about him, something cruel and callous in his gaze. "Good, splendid. Now, let's see…Which girl should I choose? Hmm—hmm—?"

He smelled worse than Cloud, his cologne musty and overpowering as walked past her, then Cloud, and came to a pause in front of Aerith. He bent forward to sniff Aerith and Tifa tried not to tense as she watched Aerith hold her breath.

Was Aerith scared? Or was the stench simply too much?

Oh how she badly she wanted to be chosen, fists itching to meet his face.

How many women had he put through this farce? How many unwanted gropes had he dealt, or pushed his heavy body against? She'd heard rumors of his bizarre sexual activities, which was most likely the main component behind his having to purchase girls, and wondered how many ways he wanted to hurt her once they were alone. She couldn't wait to show him just how badly things could hurt.

Corneo moved on, coming to stand in front of Cloud and peer at him with lazy, unblinking eyes. He reached out one stout hand and tugged one of Cloud's pigtails, smirking. "This one?" He fingered the wig in his grip, seeming to become entranced by its fair color before he abruptly let go and continued onward to her.

Tifa felt as if she'd stepped back into that weird, alternate reality she'd been in before. Could Corneo not see how… _male_  Cloud was? His wide shoulders, lean hips, even the way he stood was potently masculine.

It dawned on her then, exactly how broad Corneo's tastes ran.

"Or this one?" he sneered, beady eyes full of vile. Tifa felt her spine stiffen as he reached down and adjusted himself with one hand, the other stretching forward to grip her chin.

She struggled with the rage growing inside of her, tried not to let her hatred and disgust of him show. Gods, she had to focus. She needed to relax, couldn't attack him yet or she would put Aerith and Cloud in danger. She couldn't quite pretend to lean forward into his body, but forced the semblance of a smile.

"You're the feisty one," he murmured, let the hand gripping her chin slide down her throat, one sweaty finger beginning a slow trail along the neckline of her dress.

She was going to break his fingers.

He only got as far as a single inch before his arm was seized and he was jerked away forcibly. Tifa blinked in surprise as she turned to see Cloud gripping Corneo's arm, his eyes almost fully green.

But Corneo only laughed and swung his attention back to Cloud. "Jealous, my dear?" he cackled, covering Cloud's hand on his arm with his own. "No need to be. She may have the body of a goddess but that's not what I need tonight." He turned his head toward the muscle behind him. "I've made up my mind. Think I'll take this healthy-looking girl."

"Yes, sir," the muscles chimed in unison.

"Take the other two upstairs, put 'em in with the rest of them," Corneo instructed, then chortled and glanced around the room. His cruel gaze swung back, drew over Cloud. "I'm going to measure this one myself."

"Yes, sir!" they echoed, and Tifa stiffened as Kotch grabbed her arm.

No, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was her, she was supposed to go with Corneo, not Cloud! She didn't want to imagine the things Corneo had planned for him. Tifa opened her mouth to protest, started to resist.

But blue-green eyes caught hers, held, and flickered toward Aerith who was currently being dragged away by the other muscle in the room. Tifa could hear Aerith protesting about being roughly handled.

She felt suddenly torn.

Cloud could take care of himself but could Aerith? Could she risk an innocent getting hurt? She could beg, plead with Corneo to take her instead but then what would happen with Cloud? He would get thrown into a room full of females and they would obviously recognize his utter maleness and…and then what?

"Let's go," Kotch told her, tugging on her arm.

Cloud seemed to understand her dilemma, and gave her an almost imperceptible nod. His eyes swirled infinitely blue, all the way around, and she knew he was speaking to her without words.

_Tifa._

She could almost hear the way his voice caressed her name.

She wanted to swear. She wanted to scream. She wanted to headbutt Kotch then send a shattering right hook at Corneo's face. Instead, she let Kotch pull her out of the room and shut the door while Corneo's eager laughter followed.


	10. Chapter 10

"Wow, that was so awesome!" Aerith exclaimed as Tifa sent the last of a team of Deenglows fluttering with a series of punches. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Tifa watched the monster shudder at her feet, stayed braced for an attack until the creature lay still. "I trained with a martial arts sensei for several years," she answered, flexing her hands. They felt good, strong.

Aerith smiled at her as they continued walking, her steps light and easy. "You're so great. Do you think you can teach me a little?"

Tifa returned her smiled softly. "I can teach you some evasion tactics," Tifa agreed as she watched Luc pry open the door of an abandoned train ahead of them. "It was one of the first and most useful things I learned. It would come in handy, especially during team battles."

Aerith's brows drew together. "Really? During battle with a teammate? Not just to avoid getting hurt?"

Tifa shook her head. "You can draw the enemy's attention, avoid the attacks. This will give your teammate a chance to strike."

Green eyes sparkled. "I would love to be able to help in a battle."

"You do, already. You're a healer, which is just as important as a fighter." Tifa smiled reassuringly.

"It is?" Another furrowed brow.

"Certainly, we all of us make a team. I can't fight forever. I would become injured, tired, would need rest. As a healer you can offer that, be a partner."

"A partner…"

"Yes. By teaching you evasion tactics, you'll be a healer—and a distraction. Double the skills."

"That would be wonderful!" Bracelets jingled as slender hands clasped in excitement.

"Almost there, ladies," Luc called as he climbed into the rusty coach, eyes doing a quick scan for enemies. "Just past this last part and we're home free."

Escaping the Honey Bee Inn had been much easier than Tifa had anticipated. Luc had watched as they'd been been led through the lobby and had immediately demanded Tifa back. As Kotch had released her, she'd latched onto Aerith and insisted that Luc take them both. Smooth as ever, Luc had only nodded as he'd handed Lime Green some gil. Kotch had then led them to one of the private rooms where they'd climbed out the fire escape—but only after Tifa and Aerith both had gaped at the carousel in the center.

They'd looked at one another and had asked how a carousel was sexy.

After a swift explanation to Luc who Aerith was, about Cloud and his current situation, and her experience with Corneo, Luc had led them to retrieve Tifa's clothing. They'd followed behind Aerith to where she and Cloud's own items had been stashed. While both girls had changed behind a dumpster, Luc had programmed a single phone number into Tifa's PHS and crammed it into Cloud's uniform. Then they'd rushed out of Sector 6, taking an obscure route via the train graveyard to avoid attention.

"What time is it, Luc? Any word from the team yet?" Tifa asked as Luc rattled around in the old train. He'd opted to take point, making sure to find outs and clear paths for them to travel. He ended up handling most monsters as well, easily dispatching them and leaving Tifa only to defend their rear.

"Half past midnight. And no, nothing, haven't heard from anyone," he answered, and she could hear him shifting things around, pushing and pulling.

"Nothing," she echoed, concern crowding her breasts.

AVALANCHE should have checked in by now, she thought, worrying her bottom lip, unless something had gone seriously wrong. The plan had been to reconvene at 7th Heaven as soon as the bombs were planted, a task that should only have taken three or four hours max. As the team had departed just after seven that evening, they'd had more than enough time to affix the bombs and return home.

She wondered what sort of trouble they had run into, how they had gotten separated and if they were safe,. They would have sent word if not, a phone call or a text. If Barret had arrived home to find both Luc and herself gone with only Yuffie and Marlene remaining, he would have been on the phone in an instant, ready to yell about her taking undue risks. Instead, there was only silence.

She didn't realize she would ever yearn for one of Barret's lectures.

And Cloud…a glance at a clock in the Honey Bee Inn had read midnight when they'd left, and he hadn't checked in either. Was he ok? Had he managed to get away? Her stomach clammed up at the thoughts spinning in her head.

She contemplated asking Luc to call Barret or Cloud but quickly discarded the idea. If either were somewhere they needed silence and concentration, her phone call would only serve as a disruption. Sending a text message was also out of the question; if someone other than Barret or Cloud had gotten a hold of the phone, it would only mean another wealth of problems.

"Let's go," Luc called as he clambered through the hole of a gaping roof and surveyed the rest of the train yard. He ducked his head back inside to grin as Aerith entered the coach, Tifa following close behind. "I can almost see 7th Heaven from here," he told them from above. Something slid from his breast pocket and clattered on the floor at Tifa's feet.

"I've got it," Tifa told him, reaching for the fallen PHS as he grasped Aerith's hand to assist her up. She picked up the silver phone and slid it into her back pocket before scampering behind them both. As Luc leapt off the edge, she followed nimbly, waiting as he lifted Aerith from the top.

"Thank you for your help tonight," Tifa said to Aerith as they followed Luc behind a large clump of balled wire.

Aerith shrugged lightly. "I should be thanking you for protecting me," she insisted. "Besides, it was sort of fun."

Tifa grinned at that, recalling Cloud's frilly purple dress and badly smeared lipstick. "I bet it was," she agreed, and Aerith giggled.

"Cloud was so cute about it!" Aerith was exclaiming now with a smile. "He kept flinching, that's why the liner was so awful, and he couldn't remember he had lipstick on so he'd sort of chew his lips." She giggled again. "You're really lucky to have him. I don't know any other man who would do that for a woman."

Tifa felt her brow wrinkle at that. Was the other woman fishing again? Tifa thought she'd cleared that up earlier. "He's a good friend of mine," she explained as Luc motioned for them to wait while he cleared some more rubble.

Aerith seemed to consider her words for a second while the sounds of Luc slashing at cables with his falchion echoed. "It didn't seem that way," she observed. "He was really worried about you. And there was that moment in that final room before the Don came in…"

Tifa shrugged. She knew what Aerith was referring to, when she'd placed her hand over Cloud's heart. It had just seemed…right at the time, as if he'd been waiting for her to do so, and she'd responded accordingly. "We've known each other since we were children," she shared quietly. "He's my oldest friend."

Bright green eyes seemed to pause, digesting Tifa's words carefully before a light brown head bobbed in a nod. "Ok," Aerith agreed. "Friends."

The sound of the PHS ringing effectively interrupted their conversation.

Tifa fumbled for the phone and answered before the first ring was complete, heart beating a mile a minute. "Hello?" she practically yelled into the receiver.

"Tifa."

"Cloud," she gasped, relief flooding through her. "Are you ok? Where are you? What happened?"

"You have to get out of Sector 7," he told her, and he sounded as if he were running. "Corneo said the Turks are going to drop the plate there as we speak. He reported AVALANCHE to Shinra this afternoon and they're retaliating now."

"What?!"

"A call came through while I was with him. The Sector 5 Reactor exploded and whoever was on the line said that four AVALANCHE members were seen escaping. I'll call them as soon as we get off the phone but you have to leave, Tifa, get Marlene and get out now."

She looked at Aerith and Luc who'd gathered around her, eyes alarmed. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the pillar to try and stop them. Tifa, there's no time. You have to get Marlene out now. I'll meet you at Aerith's church. Go, go now!"

She'd never heard him yell before and nodded dumbly before she realized he couldn't see. "Yes, I—yes. Aerith's church."

"Be careful. I need you to be careful."

She clutched the phone. "Remember your promise?"

"Always, Tifa." He grunted, as if climbing over something.

Her eyes shut tight and she said raggedly, "Please." Gods, oh gods, she couldn't lose him again. There was so much she hadn't told him…

"I'll see you at Aerith's church. I have get off the phone now and you have to get Marlene."

"Please…" She felt her heart rattling in her chest. What was she asking? Marlene, Yuffie, Cloud…

"Tifa."

She let the sound of his voice roll over her, that perfect way he said her name, soothing and calming her as nothing else could. It was as if he knew exactly what she needed to hear. "Yes, now. I'll get Marlene and we'll leave. Be safe, Cloud."

"I'll see you at Aerith's church," he reminded her, and somehow that sounded like a vow too. "I'm hanging up now."

She managed a smile. She must've sounded more desperate than she'd thought if he'd had to announce the fact that he was going to hang up. "Yes, ok."

"I'll be with you soon," he repeated and the line went dead.

"You're white as a sheet, Beauty," Luc told her, placed a hand on her shoulder. "What the hell is going on?"

She repeated Cloud's story to them both as she surged forward through the mess of discarded, mashed wires Luc had hashed. "Cloud's headed to the pillar to try and stop the Turks," she finished as they climbed over a pile of debris.

"I'm going to meet him there," Luc announced, lifting Aerith.

Tifa nodded.

She was damned if she was going to lose everything to Shinra again and do nothing to stop it.

She turned to Aerith. "I need your help again, Aerith. At my bar 7th Heaven is a little girl named Marlene and her babysitter, Yuffie. Do you think you can take them somewhere safe? I need to go with Luc to stop the Turks."

Aerith nodded, eyes wide. "Yes, of course," she agreed. "We'll go to my house. It's not too far from the church where I met Cloud."

"Thank you," Tifa said, reached out and hugged the other woman.

Green eyes blinked in surprise once they'd drawn apart, as if Aerith wasn't used to physical affection.

Tifa offered her an apologetic smile, quickly releasing her. "I'm sorry, I forget sometimes that people don't like to be touched."

"N-no, please, it's nice…" Aerith replied, seemed to hesitate, then blurted, "It's just that no one let's me touch them unless it's for healing."

It was her turn to blink. "Well, that's stupid," Tifa told her, reached out and hugged her again. "I'm terribly affectionate, sometimes uncomfortably chasing people for hugs and kisses. Please don't be alarmed if I ever do that to you."

Tifa felt the other woman squeeze her back. "Ok," she said shyly.

"Really, thank you," Tifa finished and released her new friend. She turned to Luc, anger burning in her eyes. "I'm coming with you. The pillar should only be beyond the station there." She pointed past the rise of the eight foot wall they would need to scale, could hear the distant mechanical voice calling for passengers to board the High Car.

Luc opened his mouth to argue, shut it, and stared at her with glinting ice blue eyes. "You'll just follow me," he muttered.

She rewarded him with a determined smile. He was learning. "Damn straight. Let's go."

________________________________________

Cloud could hear a pepper of gunshots shrilling, then cut short as he made his way up the winding pillar stairs, his sword drawn and bloody from use. The sound of an approaching helicopter was prominent in his hearing and he did his best to block it out for he couldn't see the damn thing yet. Distracted, he ducked as an Aero Combatant dove at his head, before swinging Buster Sword in a wide arc and decapitating it. He was already up another array of endless stairs before it had stopped moving completely.

Through the grates of the steel steps he could make out multiple shapes moving, figures shifting back and forth in combat, but he couldn't determine who the hell was fighting. The sounds of hits and kicks echoed, grunts and groans following, and though there was a pitch of a battle cry he thought was familiar, he also knew he had never heard it before. Still, something in the tone quickened his footfalls and he hurtled the last set of steps to the top of the platform.

It was chaos, seven bodies in conflict while two others were crouched beneath an alcove hammering digits on laptops. He recognized Jessie and Biggs pounding away at keyboards, Luc wrestling with a woman with dark red hair, Wedge and Barret exchanging blows with a blonde woman in a suit, and a bald man trying to block as Tifa—holy fuck, Tifa!—attacked with a viciousness he had to take a second to admire.

Hard hook, axe kick, two quick jabs followed by a reverse roundhouse. The bald man managed to block nearly all her hits but spurted blood as the roundhouse connected with his chin.

She was just too damn fast.

Cloud tightened his hold on his sword and prepared to make a bloody bald head roll.

But the sight of the helicopter distracted him, appearing from behind a steel wall, and a man swinging on an attached rope ladder leapt off and onto the platform. He deftly landed beside the enormous pillar in the center.

The helo hovered closely from above, raucous and forceful, sending riotous blasts of wind strong enough to stumble the combatants. Luc and the woman staggered, Wedge, Barret and the blonde hesitated, arms rising to protect their heads as the airstream billowed hard. The bald man retreated to a crouch as Tifa turned her face away and faltered a few steps, coughing. Cloud moved to steady her, oblivious to the heavy push of the air as he let her fall against him.

"Cloud," she choked, burying her face in his chest with closed eyes as the bluster of wind twisted. There was no time to question how she knew it was him without looking.

"You're too late, yo. Once I push this button…" Reno called from where he'd landed. His arm suddenly shot out, punched an alarm along the side of the pillar that sent sirens blaring and lights to dim. His grin was smug. "Mission accomplished."

Barret roared then, diving as he tackled Reno to the ground. "Turn the fucking thing off!" the big man demanded.

The next few moments happened in a flurry of activity. Cloud instinctively tucked Tifa against him tighter, twisting so that his back and Buster Sword was shielding her as a man appeared in the helo door wielding a gun. In the corner of his eye he saw the dark-red headed woman tag Luc in the throat before lunging for the rope ladder, followed swiftly by the bald man who sprinted after her. Wedge dove and pinned the blonde woman to the ground before she could escape and Biggs rolled from beneath the alcove, rifle in hand, aimed at the helicopter.

The suited man in the helo fired several rounds at Biggs and Cloud watched in slow motion as Biggs' body jerked, before suddenly gone limp and dropping to the floor, eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"You son of a bitch!" Barret bellowed just as Reno tagged him in the gut with his EMR. Shocks of electricity bolted through the big man, seizing him in waves until he was near unconscious and the red-head slipped free, hopped the railing for the rope ladder.

"NO!" he heard Tifa cry from beside him, felt her jerk away and rush to Biggs' lifeless body. Jessie was one step behind her, crawling from the alcove to collapse beside her fallen friend.

The plate above them began to rumble and a giant portion of metal from above shifted, ready to descend upon them.

Fuck, he had to find a way to get Tifa the hell out of there.

________________________________________

No! No, no, no. Biggs can't be dead, Tifa thought, searching for a pulse as Jessie began to moan beside her. "Biggs," she choked, seeking, hunting, praying for any signs of life and finding nothing. The blood she knew that was surely seeping from her fallen friend had nowhere to go, dripping untouched through the slats of the grate.

"Biggs!" Jessie shouted, clasping his still warm hand in her own. "Biggs, please…"

But there was only silence from Biggs, his eyes wide and unseeing, a hole between his eyes that oozed blood and brain.

"You monsters!" Tifa screamed and rose to her feet, her heart pounding numbly in her chest. Oh, gods, her friend was dead dead dead deaddeaddeaddead—

Shocked eyes ran over a convulsing Barret being dragged to safety by Luc and she spotted Wedge, wrestling with a blonde woman in a black suit against the rail of the platform. They were spinning and spinning, grappling for control. Wedge had the upper hand, bigger and beefier but the blonde was fast, slipped free as Wedge attempted to shove her over the railing. Twist, turn, then both shapes were balanced precariously along the top edge, half hanging, half pivoting over the frame. Tifa took a running step forward, reaching out to drag Wedge back.

A pattern of shots rang out then and something sunk into the back of her knee, hard and singing. She felt her leg shudder then crumple and she landed on her knees half way to her destination.

"Release Elena or watch as another dies," she heard a muffled voice call over the megaphone of the helo. Something tackled her then, hard and blurry and rolled her as more shots rained down. Sparks flew from the impact, ricocheting off metal and steel and she found herself tucked behind the pillar.

"Wedge!" she screamed as Cloud freed her and was on his feet before she'd finished. She turned to watch as he sprinted toward the two bodies still hinged along the border of the railing. More shots were fired, a blaze of ember following his movements while he dove and jerked the blonde from Wedge as he slid into the alcove for cover. Wedge managed to regain his footing, reached for the woman who wobbled.

"Wedge!" Tifa called again, and attempted to surge to her feet and assist. But her leg didn't want to cooperate and she tripped, landing awkwardly. She shook her head in confusion, blinking at the blood streaming down her calf.

"Watch out, Wedge!"

She looked up at Jessie's call in time to see Elena struggling, her face red from the stronghold Wedge had on her. The blonde sunk her teeth in Wedge's flesh, twisting until she was free and had Wedge's arm clasped securely. She pushed, swung until Wedge lost his balance, suspended perilously on the guardrail.

"No!" Tifa screamed in denial as Elena heaved forcefully and Wedge began to tumble to the slums below.

Elena turned, clutching her side, and scrambled to where the rope ladder swung, jumping off to be caught by the bald man.

"That would be unwise," the helicopter voice declared as Luc began to return the gunfire.

"Fuck you, asshole!" Luc called, doing his best to cover himself and Barret from a spray of unrelenting bullets.

"The Emergency Plate Release System is scheduled to go off in under five minutes. Shooting you now is a moot point," the voice told them and stopped his shots. Tifa turned her shattered gaze toward the helo, dazedly taking in a slender, pale man with raven hair. "And besides, you just might make me injure our special guest." He reached over, dragged a resisting body to his side.

"Aerith!" Tifa shouted, stunned. Oh gods, they had Aerith. Was she hurt? And where was Marlene, Yuffie…?

"Tifa, don't worry! They're all right! Hurry and get out!" Aerith called back, and the fury inside Tifa coiled tight as she watched the slender man suddenly yank Aerith's hair, shoving her aside once more.

"Aerith!" she screamed, crawling forward on her elbows.

"How nice you could see each other one last time. You should thank me," the man boomed with a smile. He stepped aside as the Turks began ascending the ladder, climbing into the helicopter cabin.

"What are you gonna do with Aerith?" Cloud yelled, appearing from behind Tifa. She felt him stop beside her, crouch down and lay a hand on her shoulder to stay her movements.

"I haven't decided yet but the President will know what to do. Let's go, boys and girls, and get the hell out of here," he called to his pilot. He smiled back down at them one final time, malice in his curling lips as the helo began to climb. "Think you can escape on time?"

"We have to get the fuck out of here," Luc yelled once the air was no longer vibrating around them. He hauled a barely conscious Barret to his feet, guiding the big man's mechanical arm around his shoulders.

Cloud nodded, scooped Tifa into his arms. She whimpered in response, unresisting. Biggs…Wedge…her family…She turned, reached out a trembling hand toward Jessie, who was curled into a ball beneath the alcove.

"Jessie," she gasped. "We can't leave Jessie."

"I'll get her next," Cloud murmured to her, walking her over to the opposite side of the railing before setting her on her feet. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He turned to Luc and Barret who were lurching forward slowly. "These wires will hold us. We'll use them to swing to safety below. I managed to make two so you and Barret can have the other. The girls and I will follow."

"Thanks," Luc offered.

"Is Barret alright?" Tifa asked weakly, didn't hear Luc's response as they came to a stop beside her. What was that groaning noise? she thought dazedly, looking around. Why was the pillar shaking so hard and where were the spark showers coming from? The helicopter had departed, taking with it gun fire. She blinked confusedly, watching as a beam fell from above.

Fall. Like Wedge had fallen.

She squeezed her eyes shut to erase the memories.

Like Biggs had fallen.

"Tifa, I need you to hold on," a voice rumbled in her ear. She felt herself being lifted and limbs being positioned. She opened her eyes to find herself straddling a clump of bundled wires approximately a foot in circumference and incased in a black wire guard. On the other side of her, dangling dangerously loose, sat Jessie.

Sword callused hands curled around her own, dragging them to the wires and squeezed. "Tifa," Cloud said, breath warm along her cheek. "hold on tight. Hold on to Jessie and don't let go. Can you do that for me?"

For Cloud. For Jessie.

She nodded clumsily. "Jessie," she hiccupped, wrapped her arms around the red-head and bundle of wires alike. Glazed eyes returned her gaze.

"Because of our actions, many people died," Jessie was whispering. "This is probably our punishment."

"Shhh, Jessie," Tifa crooned, tightened her hold even as her heart clenched in response. Collateral damage…she had been collateral damage once and now she had created the same destruction…

"Stay still," a voice said from behind her and she felt herself being readjusted again, shifted until something warm was completely surrounding her, tucking her against strength.

"Cloud…I'm glad I could talk to you one last time," Jessie was continuing. Her head lolled and Tifa felt her breaths change, becoming short and painful. Tifa's arms moved to better grip her suddenly weakened friend.

Thunder sounded all around, loud and deep.

"Don't say 'last'," Tifa heard Cloud admonish. She felt herself pressed forward until she was pushed firmly against the collection of wires, a muscular arm wrapped securely around her and the cords both. "Hold on tight now. Tight. Don't let go. I'm going to count to three and release us."

Jessie murmured, blinking. "Tell Barret and Marlene I love them."

"J-Jessie, you can tell them yourself once we're safe," Tifa promised, felt Cloud moving behind her. Something clamored in her breast, beyond the pain and shock, something that was close to panic at the distance in Jessie's eyes. "Just hold on tight like Cloud said. Hold on to me."

"One." His voice was a rumble.

"Tifa…you always protected me, always made me feel important, cared for," Jessie was continuing, her voice faint. "You didn't have much but you shared everything that you had with a smile. I'm so grateful you loved me."

"Two."

Tifa tightened her hold, frightened. "Jessie, you're scaring me. Please, we'll talk once we're safe. Cloud will make sure we're safe."

"I'm so sorry I was never able to take care of you too, that no one fought your nightmares the way you fought ours." Distant eyes opened, closed slowly. "I'm glad you have Cloud here now, instead of just in your dreams. He'll take care of you." Jessie's thin body began to relax, going slack as fire erupted above. "I love you, Tifa. You were always the best of us and I'm so glad…"

"Jessie, please you're scaring me!" Tifa curled her fists into Jessie's shirt, arms taut, her one responsive leg desperately clenching to squeeze the red-head tighter.

"Three."

And they were swinging.

"Jessie!" Tifa screamed desperately as Jessie's went limp, body unbound from where it had just enfolded the block of wires. She was a dead weight, small and heavy and twisting and Tifa battled to keep a tight hold as the air whipped by. They were moving fast, so fast...She clung, screamed, fought, saw Cloud's hands struggling to hold them all as Jessie began slipping through her fingers.

"Goodbye, my friends," Jessie called, lifting her head one last time before she curled her knees and kicked off, falling to the blackness below.

"JESSIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"


	11. Chapter 11

The house was picturesque, neat and well-kept, with a path that led to a winding garden full of blooming flowers. It sat in complete contrast to the shadow of the slums, bright and inviting, serene. Tifa inhaled deeply the fragrance of the blooms, strangely comforted by its aroma and stumbled over an uneven segment of pavement. The muscled arm wrapped around her waist tightened, dragging her closer to the body beside her.

"This should be it," Cloud murmured as he guided her up the steps leading to the front door. "I can hear Marlene inside."

She nodded, mouth too dry to speak as he knocked on the heavy door, and grimaced against the pain of her knee. Glancing down at the ripped t-shirt they'd tied to staunch the blood flow, she thought dully how once again she'd been shot by the Turks.

They'd been walking for hours, hobbling really, with Luc guiding a disorientated Barret and Cloud carrying Tifa. She'd protested weakly, not wanting to be a burden but he'd refused, ignoring her. And so she'd drawn from the strength he'd offered instead, burrowing her face into his neck and breathing him in. Safety, security, protection, that's what he smelled of. Only as they'd taken the final few steps to what was Aerith's home had she asked to be released again and he'd complied.

She glanced behind her, troubled gaze running over Barret who had regained most of his strength but was still unsteady. He was favoring his right side where Reno had zapped him with the EMR.

Luc stood stoically beside him, unusually quiet and mostly unharmed but tired. He caught her worried eyes and she managed a grateful smile.

Throughout their journey, he and Cloud had taken turns dispatching the few creatures that had dared to attack, though it seemed that most beasts had taken to shelter, somehow sensing that too much death had already transpired.

"Yes, who is it?" a sharp voice asked after a drumming of footsteps, drawing her attention.

"We're friends of Aerith," Cloud replied.

The door cracked open the tiniest sliver and a dark eye appeared. "You are friends of Aerith?"

Cloud nodded. "And of Marlene and Yuffie too."

The dark eye blinked once, then the door swung wide, revealing an older woman with graying brown hair in a green dress and white apron. Beyond her shoulder stood Yuffie and Marlene, both clasping hands tightly and peering suspiciously from behind a potted plant.

"Tifa!" they exclaimed in unison, rushing forward.

Tifa closed her eyes as she felt herself engulfed in small arms and tight hugs.

Though it was late—or early, depending on how you looked at it—she was so glad to see their familiar faces. They were here. They were safe.  _Thank you, Aerith._

"I'm a mess," she murmured, taking comfort in their almost desperate grasps and returning it with a desperation of her own.

"You smell like exhaust," Yuffie told her, voice muffled against Tifa's collarbone. "And sort of like bacon too."

Tifa gave a startled laugh. "Yeah," she agreed, and pressed her cheek against the teen's dark head.

"Papa!" Marlene cried and wriggled free from where she was squashed between them both. She hopped the steps that would take her to her father and bounded into shaky arms.

"Hello, sweetie," Barret greeted her, his voice rough.

"You're dusty," Marlene announced, patting Barret's vest affectionately and then sneezing as the soot he was covered in sprayed her nose.

The four of them were covered in soot and dust, ash having erupted in a mushroom cloud when the plate collapsed. It had rained on them, on everything within a mile radius. Tifa smelled like smoke too, just as Yuffie had declared, and battled the nausea that clawed at her throat.

Smoke was the smell of death.

Gaia, the stench was strong, so strong now that she wasn't next to someone. As Yuffie had released her and stepped back, she closed her eyes and swallowed, swaying.

She wanted Cloud, was too afraid to need him, to reach for him. She'd already leaned on him enough today.

But then he was beside her, as if he'd heard her calling, was lifting her back into his arms and she buried her face weakly into his throat once more.

"Oh my dears, please come in," the older lady said, had watched as the dark-haired girl had turned white as the ash she was covered in. She stepped aside and beckoned them indoors.

"That is Mrs. Elmyra Gainsborough," Marlene announced as they all crowded into the dining room, the safest place to be seated while they were covered in dust. "She is the Flower Lady's mom. This is my daddy, Barret Wallace, and that is my Tifa Lockhart. That is Luc and that is Cloud and I don't think they have last names." Eyes closed, Tifa could almost see little fingers pointing, nearly smiled.

Cloud shifted, settled her into a wingback chair and she dimly reopened her eyes. She instantly missed his warmth but didn't protest, curled her hands into fists so she wouldn't reach for him. He sat adjacent to her, close enough that their knees touched.

"You children must be thirsty, starving," Mrs. Gainsborough announced, and Tifa watched the older woman in the kitchen, fussing. She set a pitcher of water on the table with a set of glasses before returning to the stove. "I'll heat up this stew for you."

"It was really loud, Papa," Marlene chimed, wiping Barret's face with her tiny fingers. "We hid in the bathroom until stuff stopped shaking."

"That's good, sweetie," Barret replied. "Yuffie and Mrs. Gainsborough took good care of you. Did you thank 'em?"

"Yes, and the Flower Lady also. I like her, she's pretty. I'm gonna make her a present too." Little hands squeezed dark cheeks. "Some people came to see her while we were picking flowers."

"Yeah, then they took Aerith," Yuffie added as she began to pour the water.

"Did you get names?" Luc asked, taking hold of two glasses and passing one to Barret, who was seated beside him.

"Uhhh, some skinny guy named Tseng with a girly pony tail," Yuffie replied. "There was a chick named Cissnei and a guy called Vegas or something, a bunch of overdressed wig wearers, if you ask me. I mean, come  _on,_ people! It was like the United Nations of hair: one with black hair, a bald guy, a blonde and  _two_  red heads? Who the hell has two red heads on their team? That's, like, a fire hazard."

"Did they say where they were taking her?"

"They didn't say outright but I ninja'd after them and heard something about headquarters and a lab, something blah blah blah," Yuffie replied. She sat abruptly in a stool, waving her hands excitedly. "I could've taken them but Mrs. Gainsborough said they wouldn't hurt Aertih."

Silence. Tifa lifted her head, eyes now wide open.

"That's not what it seemed like when we saw her," Luc slowly responded, holding his empty glass of water for a refill, and Tifa knew he was remembering the way Tseng had treated Aerith.

"They shouldn't," Mrs. Gainsborough chimed in, coming to stand behind Yuffie. "They've been after her for years."

"She told me Shinra watched her," Tifa managed, voice rusty from misuse. Cloud reached forward, pressed a full glass of water into her hands. She accepted and drank deep, letting the liquid cool her throat.

"It's true, they do. They have. She's the last of her kind, you see." Weathered hands folded into white apron pockets.

"Her kind?" Yuffie looked confused.

"Aerith is an Ancient, a Cetra, the sole survivor."

The last Ancient? Tifa's head spun at the woman's words.

Barret's bass deep voice thundered, voicing her first question. "But aren't you her mother?"

Mrs. Gainsborough smiled, a sad, haunting twist of her lips that made something inside of Tifa ache. "Not her real mother. Oh, it must've been…fifteen years ago now. I was at the train station waiting for my husband to return from the war and found Aerith with her real mother. Aerith was crying something terrible, her mother just…lying on the ground hurt, confused, disorientated…"

Tifa's heart clenched tight in her breast at the woman's words and she stiffened. She knew the kind of fear that instilled; that was how she'd found Cloud.

"…her last words were, 'Please take Aerith somewhere safe.' And so I brought her home with me, raised her as my own." Mrs. Gainsborough shook her head as if to clear her memories. "She was so lonely, my Aerith was. Still is. She would talk to me about everything, all things, sharing strange details about her mother returning to the Planet and how she escaped from a laboratory." Dark eyes blinked. "She told me not to cry and that my husband had returned to the Planet too. I didn't believe her until I received a wire notice that he had died."

"A Cetra…" Luc said softly, his icy blue eyes unfocused.

"Yes. Shinra found her years later, pleaded with her to join them and take them so some 'Promised Land.' But my Aerith refused, didn't want to go with them. They've never forced her when they could have so easily." Mrs. Gainsborough turned back to the stove as something sizzled. "That is, until today."

"Why now?" Tifa asked. "Why wait so long?"

Mrs. Gainsborough shook her head. "I don't know. But they need her. They won't hurt her. She is their ticket to wherever it is they want to go."

Tifa tried to digest it all, her mind churning. An Ancient…a descendant of the first and most beautiful people on the Planet. It was no wonder her eyes were so spirited, her smile so bright, how well she could heal. She was life embodied.

"She went with them only if they promised to leave me and Marlene alone," Yuffie shared, her brown eyes worried. "She was trying to keep us safe."

Tifa felt her heart clench again. "It's my fault…" she whispered, shut her eyes tight and wrapped her arms around herself. Guilt was her heaviest burden, a black weight in breast. "I was the one who involved Aerith in this."

The things she touched broke, even if she didn't mean for them to…

"Oh, honey." Mrs. Gainsborough came over, stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. "Don't say that. Aerith doesn't think that. I know my girl."

"I shouldn't have asked for her help. It was my responsibility, they are my girls," Tifa disagreed. "She may not think it's my fault but it doesn't make it any less true."

"She did what she did because she cares," Mrs. Gainsborough insisted, squeezed. "She doesn't have many friends and the ones she does have mean a lot to her. Whether or not you asked her to, she would have done what she could have to help. Would you have felt it was her fault had you been in her shoes?"

Tifa hesitated. No, she would never blame a friend for her own actions, her own choices.

"There, you see? The answer is in your eyes. No more talk of this now. Let's fill your stomachs, shall we?" The woman patted her shoulder comfortingly, walking back to the stove.

But Tifa wasn't hungry. She could still smell smoke and wanted to wash away the stench. Her knee was aching something fierce also, taut and throbbing. She looked down to see that the t-shirt had finally soaked through and blood was beginning to run down her calf once more.

"Mrs. Gainsborough, may we use the shower?" Cloud's voice came as if he'd read her thoughts. "We hate to keep trailing this dust everywhere."

"Oh, certainly," Mrs. Gainsborough answered, a speculative look in her gaze as they eyed him. "Cloud, wasn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"She mentioned someone with pretty blue eyes," Mrs. Gainsborough nodded. "You must be Aerith's young man."

Tifa flinched at those words, her shoulders curling. Aerith's young man. Why that should hurt, she didn't know. He certainly didn't belong to her.

But Mrs. Gainsborough was continuing, waved a hand. "There's a shower just up the stairs behind us with towels in the linen closet. You can throw your clothes in the empty hamper and I'll put them in the wash."

"Would you have a First Aid Kit available also? We seem to have collected our share of cuts and bruises." His voice was wry, charming, and Mrs. Gainsborough smiled at him, pleased.

Tifa fought a frown, an odd sensation prickling.

Cloud's manners had always been impeccable—she could recall Mrs. Strife reprimanding him whenever he wasn't—but it was that charm that hit her as new, something just a little…off center. It certainly sounded perfectly natural, normal and casual, but it didn't fit the Cloud she was familiar with, the one with uncertain blue eyes whose smiles were tentative.

_It's been a five years_ , she reminded herself. It seemed to be her mantra with Cloud. _People change._

_Except for you_ , a sly voice reminded her.  _Somehow the people you love always die too soon and_ that _never changes_.

She closed her eyes, a yawning emptiness inside of her, and felt her muscles start to quiver uncontrollably. Gods, she needed to be alone. She was too close to falling apart, didn't know what to do. Struggling to her feet, she stood awkwardly, knee burning.

"The kit is in the linen closet on the bottom shelf, dear," Mrs. Gainsborough was saying, smile gentle as she looked at Tifa. The girl looked ready to fall, eyes too large and haunted. "You go clean up and I'll have a meal waiting, Tifa. You can wear one of Aerith's gowns tonight."

"Thank you," Tifa answered, turning away as Cloud rose beside her. "I can go by myself," she told him, gingerly applying pressure to her injured leg. Pain shot up her thigh immediately, sharp and quick and she couldn't quite suppress a hiss of discomfort.

"Yes, but you don't have to," Cloud told her quietly. She felt his hand press against her lower back and she flinched.

"Don't," she cautioned sharply, pulling away. She used the table for support, managed one aching step as she gritted her teeth through the pain.

"Teefs, you're getting blood all over the floor," Yuffie announced bluntly. "You should let that spiky headed dude carry you upstairs before you leave a trail that would have made Hansel and Gretel proud."

She sighed heavily, trying not to glare at the youth. "Thanks, Yuffie."

"Let's go," Cloud said and reached for her.

But she couldn't. She couldn't be near him right now. She wanted it too much, wanted his strength and his comfort more than anything but she just  _couldn't_.

_Not yours_ , that sly voice reminded her.  _Keep it that way. Don't love him so he can live._

"No," she refused Cloud, stiffening. She could hear the desperation in her voice. "I don't want you. I want Luc." She twisted, caught icy blue eyes. "Please, Luc, will you help me?"

* * *

 

"Thank you," Tifa said softly as Luc finished bandaging her knee. She sent him a small smile. "And not just for this, but for everything."

His raven head nodded, tousled hair swinging. "No sweat, Beauty," he replied, patted the hand that lay in her lap.

They were in Aerith's room, where she would sleep with Yuffie for the night, and she'd showered and changed into one of Aerith's nightgowns after Luc had consented and carried her upstairs. She'd been grateful, had clung to him anxiously and avoided a pair of azure eyes. Luc had informed her he would wait but she'd sent him back downstairs, insistent. He'd agreed reluctantly, ice blue frowning.

That had been an hour ago. She'd showered hastily, scrubbing until her skin was red and raw. Finished, she'd bolted for Aerith's bedroom so the bathroom would remain free for someone else's use, a towel wrapped around herself and another around her knee. Tumbling awkwardly to the floor, the pain like fire in her leg, she had simply sat, breathing jaggedly until Marlene and Yuffie had come to check on her.

"Tifa, are you ok?" Marlene had asked as Yuffie had pulled a frilly white nightgown over her head. "You look like the wrong color."

She'd held out her arms. "I could use a hug," she'd answered, then clutched tightly as four arms engulfed her.

"Barret told us about Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge," Yuffie whispered, squeezing.

She'd nodded numbly. Her friends…

"I bet they're with Aerith's real mommy now," Marlene had added thoughtfully, and Tifa had pressed a kiss to her brow, forever amazed by the little girl's insight and intelligence.

"I bet they are too," she'd agreed.

"Maybe you should get some help with your bleeding so you won't be with the Planet too, Teefs," Yuffie had suggested, pulling away. "This towel isn't doing much but turning purple."

Tifa had glanced at the blue towel around her knee.

"Do you want me to get Cloud?" Marlene had leaned back, blinked at her.

_Yes, please hurry._

"No," she'd denied vehemently, shaking her head.

Brown eyes had looked at her questioningly. "Oh. His eyes were sad when you wanted Luc. Is it 'cause he's 'Aerith's young man'?"

She'd swallowed, throat tight, unable to answer.

"I'll get Luc," Yuffie had said then, sensing her confusion, and two small figures had left.

"We'll grab a few potions before we retrieve Aerith tomorrow," Luc said now, still crouched by her legs where she was seated on Aerith's bed. His icy eyes were worried when they met hers. "I'm damned sorry I left my Restore materia at the bar. You should get some rest, Beauty. It's been a long day."

"Yeah," she mumbled, breaking eye contact to fuss with the hem of the knee-length nightgown Marlene had chosen.

Pause, then, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "No."

Another pause, then a warm hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking softly. "I'm here when you're ready," he assured her quietly, and she could only nod in response.

"Elmyra sent up some food."

Icy blue eyes rose at the sound of the new voice but Tifa kept her head bent, carmine focused on frilly lace.

"Want something to eat, Beauty?" Luc asked gently with another stroke of his thumb.

No. She'd already thrown up twice.

She shook her head. "I just want to sleep now," she whispered, felt herself starting to tremble again.

Gods, would it stop? She'd shaken for so long earlier, everything quivering.

She tightened her muscles, wanted to be alone before she fell apart again. "Please go."

Luc hesitated, then rose to his feet. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

She closed her eyes in response, wrapping her arms around herself. She listened to his footsteps, long strides moving, stopping, waiting with some sort of tensioned silence before disappearing down the stairs.

"I'm going to leave the food on the desk," Cloud said, and she squeezed her eyes tight, turning her face away because she wanted his blue eyes too much.

She was a terrible person. Everything she loved died. Mom. Dad. Nibelheim. Biggs and Wedge and Jessie. Was Marlene, Yuffie, Barret next? Oh, gods, she couldn't. She couldn't love him, too, couldn't couldn't  _couldn't_. He would die and what would she do? She wouldn't love him, would  _not_ , refused. Get away, get away, she was poison get away. She couldn't lose one more person she loved.

She couldn't love one more person.

How she wished she could cry. Perhaps the pain in her heart would wash away.

Her friends…Biggs, Wedge, Jessie…she missed them. Their laughter, their teasing, their smiles and tears. Who would fix the phones she didn't mean to destroy? Who would fight to eat her last pancake? She wanted to tell them she loved them. Did they know?

The house she'd lived in, made into a home with their cheery faces. Her business, her years of blood and sweat and scraping every last gil so that she could somehow give a little girl a better life…it was all gone too. The neighbors she'd waved to, the regulars of the bar, the workers who came at lunch and shared with her their troubles. Were they safe? Had they survived? She had only their confidences now, might never share a new one with them. It had all had been destroyed, nearly her whole life again.

Just like Nibelheim.

Everything she loved, she broke. She didn't mean to. She promised to never love again, please don't let anyone else die. She was sorry, so sorry, so  _sorry_ ,  _so_  sorry—

Bile rose in her throat, hard and swift, and she shot to her feet, crumpling as her leg gave out. She struggled to rise, hand pressed tightly over her mouth—

Comforting arms lifted her, comforting skin against her own, carrying her to the bathroom and holding her hair as she was sick into the toilet.

Minutes passed, long and silent. She was sick twice more, heaving only acid and air before she found the strength to push away.

She sat in a daze, eyes glazed and unseeing. She heard the faucet running, felt the touch of a damp cloth dabbing at her face. She was picked up, settled on the vanity beside the sink, her hands washed gently. Something liquid and minty appeared. Mouthwash. She obediently swished, spit, watched numbly as the green fluid spun and spun before disappearing down the drain. Arms picked her up again, carried her back to a cold bed and set her down, quickly withdrawing.

Blearily, her eyes met carefully blank azure.

"You should try to get some rest," Cloud said, crouched beside her. Then he stood abruptly and turned away, as if unable to bear looking at her another second.

Yes, of course. She flinched and ached for his arms. She wrapped her own around herself, pretending. She was used to that.

When she found the courage to look up, he was gone.

Yes, of course. Stay away. She was no good.

Something glimmered in the corner of her eye and she turned to see a window, leading out to a flat roof. A memory flickered, of joyous times shared with those she loved and she crawled awkwardly to the glass, jerking the pane open. Dragging her painful leg, she clambered onto the roof until she was settled on her back, laying flat.

She looked up at the blackness above her, noting the grainy lines of the ugly plate, the dim lights that flickered in certain areas and the jagged corners of others. It was different from the one she'd spent hours tracing with her eyes before, but yet so much the same, just as bleak and harsh, just as oppressive.

She laid unmoving, staring, good memories swirling with bad until horror was all she could see.

Biggs' lifeless eyes, staring and seeing nothing.

Wedge's determined face, frozen in surprise as he was thrust away.

Jessie's pale features, resigned and fading into darkness.

She wished again for tears, wondered if they could help cleanse her somehow. But tears remained elusive, a reprieve that she didn't deserve. She'd already cried her quota, it seemed.

Curling into a ball, she closed her eyes and ached for solace.

"Cloud," she whispered as she always had when the pain was too much, as if the name was some sort of talisman.

Except…somehow, for the first time, her plea was answered.

"I'm here," she heard as she was suddenly gathered in strong arms, settled into a lap and pressed into a strong chest. She whimpered, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck as her breaths became painful gasps. Then she was moving, hands clumsily seeking until she had them wrapped around him and was squeezing tight.

"I'm here," he repeated when his name echoed again, broken and ragged, and he stroked her hair.

"I'm here," he answered when she hiccupped his name and he rubbed her back.

Safe, secure, protected, her champion had finally come.

Weakly, like a child, she sagged against him, eyes closing. The memories swarmed again, but this time they stayed clear and bright, his strength beside her, around her, having battled the shadows.

"We used to sit on the roof of 7th Heaven, the four of us, and dream about one day sleeping under the stars there," she whispered before she knew she wanted to speak. "We would always try our best to describe the sky to one another. Blue to me was always…home, somehow, calling me home except I was too far away to reach it, too small it couldn't find me. I'd tell how I had once felt like the stars were so close the wishes I made were already certain in my future."

She paused, eyes open and distant as she remembered. "Jessie described the stars as the motherboard of a computer, connecting everything in the universe but not functional without the computer itself—the Planets. Biggs insisted that the sky's color was akin to a video game, always the same but as you could play it again and again and only your view of it changed, not the sky itself. Wedge had no such comparisons, believed that there was nothing ever created that was the equivalent of a sky that somehow touched everyone all the time." She shuddered, limbs quaking. "I wish I would have gotten to sleep under the stars with them, just once."

She turned, buried her face in her trembling hands and began shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

It was a long time before she stopped, this session harder, deeper than the last, but she felt cleansed this time, as if she wasn't alone as she fought the grief. She opened her eyes, turned her face into a welcoming shoulder and let out a worn sigh of exhaustion.

"Can we go to bed now?" she whispered. "I'm so tired."

Strong arms moved and she realized they'd stayed locked around her the entire time. She was lifted, tugged, maneuvered and was inside again, lying on Aerith's soft bed, never away from Cloud's warm chest. She let out another sigh, this one of satisfaction as her hand found a familiar heartbeat and her eyes closed.

She murmured a protest as she was shifted again, her hand slipping and she frowned, seeking. But then she was pulled back and tucked flush along his warmth, his front to her back, his body curving around her protectively.

"I'll watch yours now," he whispered against her ear as he laced her hand in his and pressed them against her heart.

She nodded, breathing in strength and comfort and safety, and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Cloud watched silently as Tifa slept, his eyes roaming over her delicate features, relieved that color had begun returning to her cheeks. She'd been too pale the night before, her eyes too dim and large, her sadness so acute it had been near tangible. He'd wanted to kill something, anything, mostly Shinra and those fucking Turks. His body tautened just thinking of it.

Her brows drew together in sleep, as if sensing his tension, and he reached out with a quiet hand, smoothed the wrinkle gently.

She was beautiful, unequivocally so, her skin smooth and honey-tinted, her heavy lashes like bruises on her cheeks, rosy mouth soft and relaxed. He wondered briefly what she tasted like and couldn't quite resist brushing his thumb along that supple bottom lip.

Heavy footfalls sounded outside of Aerith's bedroom—only Barret moved with such brash steps—and he slid an arm across Tifa's hips, shifting so that he was more securely shielding her. He'd purposely left the door ajar, closed enough that the position of the bed hid them but open far enough that it screamed propriety; he hadn't wanted Elmyra thinking anything unkind about Tifa.

He pulled the quilt higher along their shoulders, wanting to keep their intimately entwined limbs private, keep Tifa guarded. As the steps drew past without pause, he lifted his head, gazed at the door, then checked the bedside clock.

5:25PM. They'd been asleep for nearly ten hours. He had a feeling it was the last undisturbed night they would spend for a long, long time.

Glancing around, he observed Aerith's room, this time with much less calculation than the night previous when he'd been busy taking stock, his main concern that of escape routes. Tifa's safety had been forefront then. Now he looked on curiously, running his eyes over the lived-in space.

The small area was neat and tidy, much as the rest of the house, and decorated with bright, cheerful items. Lacy window curtains, flowery wallpaper along one side, frilly bits here and there that stamped the room with femininity. The slightly opened closet door revealed a plethora of dresses in all shades of pink, soft and muted, as delicate as the girl herself had seemed.

He'd enjoyed Aerith's company last night, even while worrying about Tifa and aching for her touch to silence the static in his head. Aerith had been fun and free, quick to smile and tease. She'd cajoled him into a dress, for Shiva's sake, and he'd allowed her to put make up on him, a damn tiara too! Every time she'd mentioned it was for Tifa, he'd bit down on his groaning masculinity and let Aerith do her worse.

She had made him feel…relaxed. The time he'd spent with her tromping back to 7th Heaven, then scouring the Wall Market for proper—er,  _improper_ —attire had been light and easy. Simple. The feelings the green eyed girl provoked were of effortless companionship, different and new. And sometimes it seemed as if a part of him recognized her. There was certainly the want to protect her.

Maybe it was because she  _needed_  him, something he hadn't ever really felt before. She'd needed him to fight fiercely for her because she couldn't physically defend herself. He'd felt somehow—braver and stronger when he'd been with her.

Tifa didn't need him the same way. Hell, she could probably protect  _him_  if and when he needed it.

Aerith had been flirty too, smiling coyly, standing just a tad too close and blinking those lively, emerald eyes at him. He'd curiously let her take the lead in that, neither responsive nor rejecting her advances, and through it all he'd noticed that she'd had a sort of end-game air about it all, as if she was on a set course and he was destined to be a part of it.

Whatever path it was, he didn't know, wondered if even Aerith was sure of where it would lead.

And while he'd been with Aerith, that other voice inside him, the one that sometimes spoke louder than the white noise, was calmed, at peace. That voice, the second him, had almost taken over, merged the too many hims inside.

… _Aerith needed to be loved…love her…_

He could swear he was going crazy sometimes. Two hims? Many hims? The hell was he thinking? He laid his head back on the pillow and was glad that the white noise and second voice was quiet, combated away by the warmth in his arms. It was the only thing he was sure of.

 _Tifa_  was  _Cloud's_  need.

He'd managed to sleep dreamlessly again, the result of having Tifa's presence beside him, but had woken several times, concerned about her wound. She'd gasped once during slumber and he'd been alert in an instant, gripping Buster Sword's handle to find that she had somehow jarred her injured knee. He'd carefully rearranged her then, rolling her onto her back and draping her legs over his to keep them from knocking together.

Admiring her peaceful features now, he counted her breaths and hesitated before waking her. He didn't want her to feel the sorrow in her heart too soon, wanted to allow her the reprieve of sleep. Just a few more minutes, he told himself and leaned close to nuzzle her slender neck.

"Cloud…" she murmured, and he nestled her more firmly against him, nearly beneath him, taking supreme satisfaction at the sound of his name on her lips.

After they'd arrived at the house last night—this morning?—he'd felt her withdrawing from him, closing in on herself almost the instant he'd sat her at the table alone. He should've damned well resisted the dumb-ass voice of decorum his mother had bore into his head and done what he'd wanted: held her in his lap. But the reminder of good behavior had been loud, and so he'd thought to be polite for Elmyra's sake. After all, the woman and her daughter had already risked enough to help virtual strangers.

When Tifa had rebuked his help later, asking instead for Luc, he'd known he'd made a mistake by letting her sit alone. If she'd stayed in his arms, he would've kept her there. Silently, he'd watched as she'd been whisked away, a strange clenching sensation in his chest.

He brooded now, frowning.

Rejected. His offer of help and comfort, of himself had been rejected by her. Three times, actually. He'd spent his time in the shower after she'd recoiled from his touch denying the way he'd felt kicked in the heart.

He should've been used to it. As kids, he'd hardly been one she'd sought out.

It was just…the hours she'd spent with her mouth pressed to his throat as he'd carried her had told him a different story. The few weeks spent with her at 7th Heaven had seemed to him that they'd somehow become…a unit.

Stupid, really. He hadn't even had the balls to do more than cover her hand with his whenever they were sleeping, and he'd thought they were a unit?

Because she'd seemed to know exactly how much he enjoyed her lemonade and always made extra for him? Because she shared private smiles with him whenever Barret used "fuck" to punctuate too many terms? Because when she sighed in her sleep it was his cheek it whispered across?

He shifted his arm, searching for her hand to lace their fingers.

After finishing his shower and dressing in the cotton shorts and t-shirt Elmyra had given him, he'd thought to ensure Tifa was resting. Just because she didn't want him close, didn't mean he couldn't ensure her safety. He'd already decided to set up camp outside Aerith's bedroom to keep watch. Carefully, he'd strained his ears for her breathing.

When the sounds of her breaths had come far too distant, he'd become alarmed, had nearly torn the door off its hinges to find that Tifa had crawled out onto the roof. He'd watched her from the window for countless minutes, relieved to find her in one piece—at least, physically.

He'd been wondering how the hell he was going to get her back inside—shit, he  _really_  hadn't want to get Luc—when she'd curled into a ball and whispered that soft, aching, "Cloud."

 _Mine_.

And so he'd followed his heart and had climbed out behind her. Terrified at how small and breakable she'd seemed, he'd gathered her into his lap, offering the comfort of himself one more time. When she'd folded against him, when she'd called for him twice more in that weak, faint voice, his throat had gotten uncomfortably tight as he'd realized that she'd whispered his name as if it were some comforting ritual.

And so he had mourned her friends along with her, wishing Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge peace in the Lifestream. He had liked the three of them, enjoyed them, but Tifa had built lives with them, loved them as her own. Her sorrow would have been tenfold his. Losing them, losing her home and life in the slums must've been like Nibelheim all over again.

The loss of things familiar he understood; they'd both lost nearly everything five years ago in Nibelheim. Flaming Ifrit, he'd been sure he'd watched  _her_ die, had felt grief so sharp he'd been blinded with it. The pain from it had fueled his vengeance, the only reason he'd been able to attack and destroy that jade-eyed demon.

He was just so damn sorry she'd had to lose things twice.

Lifting his chin, he pressed his nose into her throat, his head lower than hers along the pillow, and nuzzled her soft skin one last time. It was as much to give comfort as to receive before he had to rouse her. He knew how she enjoyed simply laying after sleep, wanted to give her that comfort despite the fact that they were running out of time.

"Tifa," he said softly, raising their laced fingers and pressing them to her heart. He did his best to ignore the soft mounds of her breasts though he did guiltily sneak a stare—er, glance. He really liked her curves, every slope and arch.

In her slumber, her eyelids flickered.

"Tifa, it's time to get up now," he repeated in a low voice, rose on his elbow to peer down at her. He realized he'd never before watched her awaken, though they'd slept beside each other nearly every night. "Tifa."

She stretched languorously as she came awake, making a delicious sound in the back of her throat as she slipped her hand from his and extended her limbs. He smothered a growl at her innocent writhing and enjoyed the firm press of her body against his when she arched. Gaia, she felt good. He slid his free hand to cup her hip, squeezing the smooth skin there.

Did she realize her nightgown had ridden up during the night? That her too long legs were fully exposed? He was well aware, had even caressed her bare thigh as they'd slept, letting the silken smoothness lull him into sleep. He'd felt guilty afterward—except she'd seemed to like his touch, had purred and he'd had to stifle his hand from further exploration.

Blurry carmine eyes found his, blinking slowly, and he thought he would forever be awed by all her beauty.  _Wow_ , he thought stupidly, drowning.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice husky as she continued pressing against him.  _Wow_ , he thought again, though this time less innocently, much,  _much_  less.

"Hi," she replied drowsily, still locked somewhere between asleep and awake. It was probably foolish yet he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of pride at having provided her the security of waking leisurely. He knew she was usually instantly alert, even as she would lay unmoving for long minutes.

He hated the reasons she'd had to learn the trait and wanted to do his best to provide her with more sleep fogged wakefulness.

As her body relaxed again, he wondered what her reaction was going to be once she was cognizant enough to recognize they were completely entangled.

The wait wasn't long; he watched the awareness return to her gaze, watched her eyes widen to find herself nearly pinned beneath him and realize it  _he_  who was wrapped around  _her_  for once—and not the other way around.

A pink tongue darted out to wet her dry lips and he followed the movement with his eyes.  _Ifrit._  He wanted to do that.

"Oh! Ah—" She squirmed, fidgeting, and he felt his lips curl in response. It was rare to see her discomfited. He liked that he was the cause.

"Sleep well?" she flustered and wiggled.

Yeah, he liked that too, smothered a groan. "Next to you, who wouldn't?" He added a cocky grin, hiding the truth of his words behind it.

As expected, she rolled her eyes.

In an attempt to calm his libido, his eyes turned serious, studying her with sudden focus. She was still too pale, eyes still too shadowed. "How are you?" he asked gently.

Her mouth dipped, carmine rapidly filling with grief. "Not too well," she admitted and lowered her lashes, plucking at the quilt.

He hated to see the darkness lingering. "C'mere," he whispered and lowered his head, tucking her chin into the space between his shoulder and neck. She came willingly, curved both her arms around his middle until they were pressed breast to chest. She shuddered against him, much as she had on the roof, and he held her tightly once more, absorbing her shivers.

"Better?" he asked after long minutes, feeling her sag. She nodded, chin tapping his shoulder. Giving her one last squeeze, he rose on his elbow again. "How's your knee?"

Her brows drew together and he felt her flex her leg. "Sore," she confessed, shifted. Stilled. He bit back a grin as her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Oh my gods!"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"All my clothes are in the wash and I don't have panties on!" she hissed. Her mouth remained open after her announcement in horror.

"I know," he groaned and flexed the fingers at her hips.

She whacked his side, pushing his arm away to tug her nightgown back over her bottom. He watched with warring amusement and disappointment as she adjusted the wrinkled fabric under the cover of the quilt—mostly disappointment.

"Cloud!" she chided. "This isn't the time or place!"

He duly noted that she hadn't protested the situation—just the setting. Smiling unrepentantly, he lowered himself so that he lay on his side, facing her as she slipped the quilt around herself securely. He waited until she was done, reached out and laced their hands together again.

It was a while before either of them spoke.

"Thank you," she said finally, softly. He felt her squeeze their linked hands. "For yesterday. For today. For helping us and…for helping me. I…I really appreciate it."

He nodded, a bit uncomfortable with her gratitude, but glad he'd been able to do  _something_ , even if it was just holding her.

He traced his eyes over her profile as she mulled over her thoughts. Damn but she was beautiful.

"I…can I tell you something?" she whispered, her voice shaky.

He really,  _really_  hated the fear in her voice, wished he could console her by stabbing something. Several times. To death. Several times. "Anything," he answered, keeping his voice even.

"When J-Jessie…" Her voice paused, wobbled. Her eyes slid closed and she jerked once, as if in pain. "W-when Jessie was swinging with u-us, I-I didn't…I d-d-didn't mean to let g-go."

 _Fuck._  He wanted to kill everything! Her anguish, so obviously blatant in her voice and movements, made his stomach hurt.

" _Tifa_ ," he crooned. For some reason, whenever he said her name, she seemed to calm and he needed her to hear him when he spoke next. He released their tangled hands and drew her as close as he could over the bulky quilt. "You didn't let go. Jessie did. Jessie was ready to let go. She pushed us away."

"B-but if I would h-have just tr-tried  _harder_ —" She gasped, pressed her mouth into his shoulder.

He'd never thought he would wish for her tears. He wished for them now. Anything was better than her dry eyed suffering.

"You did your best. Don't blame yourself because it's not your fault. She was ready to let go—and she did. Do you blame me for letting her go too?"

She wrenched away then, jerked her head back and stared at him appalled. "No!" she proclaimed, eyes wide in denial.

He shrugged, shared with her his own guilt. "I was holding on to both of you, I should've been able to hang on—"

"No," she said firmly, shook her head heatedly. Her hands shot up, cupped his face and she stared hard into his eyes. "You're wrong. You were holding on to me and Jessie and yourself and also had to deal with somehow releasing us and then landing us because I was certainly no help."

"I'm ex-SOLDIER, more than strong enough—"

" _No_." She frowned at him, gave his face a shake as if to punctuate her words. "Absolutely wrong. Just because you're strong doesn't mean that Jessie pushing off was your fault."

He let her words sink in, letting them cleanse him, then covered her hand on his cheek with his own. "Tifa, just because you're strong doesn't mean that Jessie pushing off was your fault," he echoed quietly.

Her brow wrinkled, eyes darkened as if she desperately wanted to believe him.

"If you need someone to blame, then you can blame the both of us," he suggested.

"No! Not you."

"Then not you either. We tried our best. We didn't let go. She was ready and she pushed us away." He pressed his forehead against hers. "She  _pushed_ , Tifa, you remember? I do. I'll never forget." He wouldn't. He'd never seen chosen death so near in his life.

Carmine eyes closed. "Me too," she whispered, and he knew she felt the same.

Slowly, with infinite care, he drew her back into his arms and held her for long, indeterminable moments. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were clearer, and he wished death onto less things.

"Luc told me we're going after Aerith," she said after a while, rolling onto her back. "Do we have a plan?"

He paused at the mention of Luc, his mouth tightening. He didn't like hearing another man's name from her lips while they were in bed together—especially of the one she'd turned to instead of him.

Almost as a reminder— _mine_ —he untucked the quilt from around her, then slipped his arm across her hips and yanked her close, spooning her. He ignored her yip of surprise. "Yeah," he muttered, took satisfaction in the fact that she didn't protest the movement and remained pliant and soft.

Pause. "And?" she pressed, letting him hold her.

And he didn't want to mention Luc's name in bed either. They had to get up.

"And it's time to rise so we can finalize our plans with everyone," he finished, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

She let him rest against her for several heartbeats before she wriggled around so that they were face to face. Sliding both arms around his neck, she tucked into him. "Ok," she whispered, breath tickling his ear. There was the firm press her lips to his cheek, lingering for several seconds. "Thank you, Cloud, for everything." Then she was kicking off the quilt and bounding to her feet while his head reeled.

His first kiss from Tifa Lockhart! Didn't matter that it had been on his cheek. His seven year old self had fainted somewhere in happiness.

* * *

 

"How ya doin', baby doll?"

Tifa could only shake her head as she hugged Barret tight, trying to absorb her friend's strength and grief. They stood at the entrance of the living room where she'd pounced on him as soon as he'd come in from outside. Luc had informed her he'd gone for a walk.

"I miss them," she whispered. She did. There was a hole in her heart that remained no matter how many hugs she stole to fill it. She tried anyway, had already hugged Yuffie twice and Marlene double that.

The press of his cheek was solid against her hair. "Me too," he answered quietly, and just let her cling for a while.

Barret was the only other person in the world who'd known Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge the way she had. She needed so much to be close to someone who had loved them too, knew that Barret felt the same.

"They ain't gonna get away with this," Barret grumbled, his voice filled with fury. "There ain't no fucking way they're gonna get away with this."

She nodded.  _Not if we can help it_ , she thought and finally leaned back.

His dark gaze swept over her, taking in her pale visage. "Never seen you lookin' so sad as last night," he told her gruffly, his hands on her shoulders. "Didn't like it."

She presented him with a brave smile, gave him the same once over he'd given her. "Same goes for you," she echoed, covered his much bigger hands with her own. "I didn't like it either. How are you today? Recovered?"

He snorted. "Weak-ass taze ain't gonna keep me down for too long," he boasted, then winced. "That shit hurt, though. I fucking hate gingers."

She laughed as he slung an arm around her shoulders and walked her back to the dining room, sank into a chair beside her. She scooted closer to him. It was rare Barret showed any need for comfort or affection, other than with Marlene, so his blatant demonstration now spoke volumes to her. He needed her support and she would give him everything she had left.

"Everybody jus' waitin' for me?" he asked, resting his arm along the back of her chair.

She nodded.

She and Cloud had arrived in the dining room a half hour ago, both washed up and redressed, to find everyone but Marlene and Barret present. Yuffie, Luc, and Elmyra had watched the both of them enter silently, each with a bowl of soup in front of them. Yuffie had had a suggestive grin on her face while Elmyra had looked on worriedly, her brow wrinkled. Luc had been the only one who had looked casual, the only one at the table who knew she and Cloud regularly slept together— _literally_  slept together.

 _Nothing happened!_  she'd wanted to cry.  _We even left the door open!_

Thank Shiva Mrs. Strife had drilled manners into Cloud's head.

She looked up then, caught azure eyes watching her from across the table and felt her lips curve into a smile.

Cloud…he'd been her rock, the only thing steady in the storm of her grief. She'd woken up to his azure eyes rimmed largely with green and hadn't even flinched, though she'd finally realized the green made him more…aggressive. Shiva, she hadn't even cared too much at being nearly naked with him, too caught up in the fact that he'd been right where she'd needed him to be: beside her.

He winked at her playfully and she blushed.

 _Blushed!_  What was she, fifteen again?

"Let's git started," Barret announced, pounded his hand on the table. "Where's Marley? Don't need her hearin' us."

"Ah—she's upstairs, finishing the presents she's making for us," Tifa shared and tore her gaze away, reached for her glass of water. Gaia, he was getting to her.

Sipping her water slowly, she realized she felt better after eating, less weak and more energetic, though it had been a chore to choke down any food at all. Cloud had been insistent, had threatened to spoon feed her, all the while reminding her of her blood loss and how the meal would go a long way to restoring it.

"So what's the plan?" Yuffie chirped excitedly from beside her, rubbing her hands with unconcealed glee.

Tifa shot the teen a frown, still unsure if she should accompany them. After discussing their situation at length, it had been decided they needed the man power, and Yuffie was a phenomena with the shuriken.

"Got some info today,," Luc started, leaning his elbows on the table. He had a sheet of paper in front of him, was drawing as he spoke. "Shinra HQ is in the heart of Midgar, 70 floors. The higher you climb, the higher the security clearance, and security is nearly airtight. The 59th floor is the last of the less secure areas, anything above is hell to get into. Per my resources, cell blocks are located on the 67th floor. Yuffie said they mentioned something about taking Aerith to a lab, which could be either the 67th or 68th—both have some sort of laboratory environment involved."

Tifa tucked her hair behind her ear, leaned forward as Luc's drawing slowly came to life. She couldn't help but admire his graceful strokes along the paper.

"We can't take the High Car up because they're looking for us, but there's a path through the Wall Market we could take," he was continuing.

"The wire climb?" Barret inquired. "Think maybe AVALANCHE used that before. Ain't that where the first High Car exploded cuz of a Mako leak?"

Luc nodded. "Exactly."

"But how we gonna get through? First we went up, needed some batteries or some shit."

Tifa remembered. They'd climbed up a wire, much like the ones they'd swung to safety on during the plate drop, and Jessie had created several weird, Mako tubes to power out of service lifts. The lifts had carried them into an alley just outside of Shinra headquarters.

"I know someone in the Wall Market who can hook us up with the appropriate materials," Luc answered, finishing his sketch. He flipped it so that they could see what he'd drawn, and rattled on about the basic layout, exits, detailing elevators and security guards, access codes and passkeys. Tifa took it all in, wondering what the safest, quickest path would be.

"I say we bust in and kick some ass!" Yuffie exclaimed. "We can take-on a bunch of washed up Shinra grunts."

"We could storm the tower but we'd cause a lot of commotion, should really save our energy for storming out," Luc advised. He thought for a bit. "I could get us some disguises."

Barret shook his head. "Ain't no disguise can hide me," he objected.

Tifa's brow furrowed. He was right, especially since Shinra probably had an alert out for them. You just didn't come across many 6'5" men with a gun for an arm.

"How about the back?" she asked, tilting her head.

"No can do, Beauty," Luc answered, tapped his pencil on the paper. "There actually isn't really a back, just more of the same. The building is built in symmetry with each other up until the executive levels."

"We can take the stairs."

Tifa looked up at Cloud's words, the first he'd spoken since they'd started to debate.

Luc glanced at Cloud, looked down at his drawing. "Stairs? The employee stairs?"

Cloud shook his golden head, spikes tilting. Her mouth twitched. She'd always found him attractive—ok,  _very_  attractive—but just then, with his hair swinging so, he looked so darn…cute. She wanted to run her hands through that gold, feel the soft strands between her fingers.

He pointed at the drawing, running his finger along the west side of the building. "There's an unmonitored stairwell, hidden inside the dimensions of the tower," he explained. "Every blueprint you've ever seen outside of classified military information is wrong, intentionally extended to include the hidden stairwell but shortened in reality."

Tifa remembered the white walled room at Don Corneo's. "Some things you don't want anyone to see," she murmured.

"Precisely."

Luc's eyes narrowed, and he began redrawing over the original, blacking out a portion of the building. "How far up does it go?" he asked.

"59th, I bet," both she and Barret assumed. She glanced over at him, flashed a cheeky smile.

Cloud nodded, tapped the drawing again as Luc continued sketching.

"We wanna make a stop on the 49th. It's what's called the SOLDIER floor," he informed them. "They keep weapons, ammo, materia there."

"We could use some," Barret grumbled, nodding. "Easy to get in?"

Cloud shrugged. "No security. Mako eyes is all you really need for clearance there. I can probably get in and out without much trouble."

"I think I can get us a keycard duplicate," Luc was muttering as he finished up. "At least to the 60th floor."

"Good enough for me," Tifa acknowledged, sitting back in her chair. She glanced at Elmyra, who had looked on silently. "We're going to get her back to you safely," she said softly, meeting the woman's troubled eyes.

"I know you will," she replied, "but I can't help worrying anyway. Part of being a mother, I suppose."

Tifa felt a tug of envy, wondering what it was like to have a mother worrying over her.

"When do we leave?" Yuffie asked.

"Soon as we say good-bye to Marley," Barret told her, rising to his feet. "Elmyra agreed to keep her for me."

Elmyra nodded. "Such a darling child, much too smart for someone so young." She smiled at Barret. "You'll remember what I told you, won't you, Barret?"

Tifa hid a smile at the abashed look on Barret's face. Elmyra must've chided him affectionately earlier. "Yes'm," he mumbled, and left the table with an added, "'Scuse me."

"Woo hoo!" Yuffie cried, jumping to her feet and pumping a fist in the air. "Can't wait to ninja into Shinra HQ! They'll never know what hit 'em! Gotta get my shuriken!" She bounced off, nearly sprinting.

Tifa smiled after her. Oh, the exuberance of youth.

"We're going through the Wall Market, right?" she asked as Elmyra rose and made her way to the kitchen. Tifa flexed her knee gently. She'd been able to walk today but didn't know how long she would last. "So we can grab some potions?"

As Cloud stood and followed Elmyra, his expression determined, she followed his actions with curious eyes and wondered what he was about.

"That's the plan," Luc answered, drawing her gaze back. "Gotta stock up before we roll. You'll be ok until then?"

She nodded. "I should be fine." She could make the two or three mile hike to Sector 6, couldn't she?

He sent her a searching look, then offered a gentle smile. "I'm sorry about your friends, Beautiful Girl," he said softly, offering his hand to her from across the table.

She grasped it, squeezed. "Me too, Luc."

"We can fuck shit up if it will make you feel better," he offered in that same, quiet tone. "Throw rocks at old folks, punch random people, scream curse words at children."

She belted a surprised laugh. "You mean throw rocks at Barret, punch Elmyra, and swear at Marlene?"

He grinned at her. "Right on!"

"Hey, Marley's got somethin' to say to everyone," came Barret's deep voice, and Tifa turned to see him standing behind her, Marlene hiked on shoulders. "She's got presents for us too, wants us in the livin' room."

Tifa smiled, rising to follow Barret with Luc close behind. She wondered what the clever four year old had fashioned this time. A few months ago, she'd received a braided hair tie, too long to be practical so she'd weaved it into her fighting gloves instead, using them as laces.

Barret set Marlene down in the center of the room, a serious expression on her tiny features, and Tifa felt her heart tug. How much she loved that little girl. She walked over to where Barret stood, leaned her head against his arm.

"Thank you for bringing her to me," Tifa whispered to Barret as Cloud and Elmyra shuffled into the room behind Luc.

"Thanks for letting me bring her to ya, doll," Barret replied, and draped his arm across her shoulders.

"Every day when I get home, Tifa asks me what kind of day I had," Marlene started once everyone was crowded together. She dug into the pocket of her purple jumper, and pulled out several pieces of shiny material. "And so I rate them. A is the worst and Z is the best. She always tells me to have a Z and I thought that everyone who's leaving should have a Z to take with them." She nodded to punctuate her words, turned to Barret. "So I made some."

She held out her arm, a small, delicately carved Z fragment in her small hands. It was made of what looked like a thin piece of steel. "The first one is for you, Papa," she offered, "because you're number one."

As solemnly as she had offered, Barret accepted, squatting down and kissing Marlene's brow. "Thank you, baby," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "You're my number one too."

Oh, how much Tifa  _loved_  that little girl.

Marlene turned to Yuffie next, who was standing just a bit behind her and Barret, and held out a shiny tin Z, scratched with patterns. "This one is for the only real princess I know," she announced.

Tifa watched Yuffie's eyes fill as she sank to her knees, gathered Marlene into her arms. "You're the  _real_  princess, Marley," she whispered, sniffled. "Thank you for the best present ever."

When she was on her feet again, Tifa reached for her hand, holding tight as tears continued to glimmer in the youth's dark eyes.

Marlene looked over at Luc next, shot him a shy smile and held out a slightly reddish piece of metal, the edges worn but smooth. "This one is for Luc because he showed me his secret," she told them all bashfully.

Tifa couldn't help but grin. So Luc had been charmed enough to flash Marlene his red eyes. How adorable.

The tall, dark haired Luc crouched down low and nodded, carefully accepting Marlene's gift. He kissed the tip of her nose. "You're my best girl, runt," he informed her, held the disc to his heart. "Thank you. Don't forget that I'm gonna wait for you to grow up and marry me."

Marlene's conspiring whisper was delightful. "Papa's gonna be mad."

"That's right, baby," Barret agreed, shot a mock glare at Luc who smiled in return.

Marlene's dark head turned to Tifa then, and her expression was thoughtful, her tiny brows drawn together pensively. Tifa carefully squatted to her eye level, wondered what was going on behind those shiny, brown eyes. She didn't speak for a long time, simply returned Tifa's gaze.

"This one is for the Flower Lady," Marlene said finally, held out a small, perfectly formed Z made of crisp aluminum. It was folded over several times, had develop a sturdy thickness. "She doesn't know about our Zs. When you give it to her, will you tell her the story, Tifa?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Tifa answered, accepting the burnished letter.

"I only made five," Marlene confessed, her brow furrowed pensively. She continued to look at Tifa, brown eyes swirling thoughtfully.

Tifa felt her heart clench. She had no doubt she would receive Marlene's final Z, leaving Cloud without one…Tifa didn't dare look up, didn't dare look away from those serious brown eyes as they peered at her gravely. What was Marlene thinking so hard about…?

"Maybe it should just be you and I talking, sweetheart, would that be better?" Tifa asked quietly, not wanting Marlene to feel ashamed that she'd miscounted or run out of time.

Brown eyes considered, then nodded. "Ok."

As everyone began to shuffle out of the room, Marlene suddenly asked, "But wait! Can Cloud stay?"

Tifa's eyes widened. Shoot, he had been the other one she'd been worried about. "Oh, but sweetheart, I thought it would just be me and you—"

Marlene shook her head adamantly. "Cloud should stay."

Tifa looked up, met carefully blank azure eyes.

"I'll stay," Cloud stated, moved back to his position by the stairs.

_Oh, Cloud…she didn't mean to forget, she probably just ran out of time…_

But Marlene was oblivious to Tifa's plight, was resuming animatedly. "This is my last Z," Marlene said, her tiny fist wrapped around her final gift. "Mrs. Gainsborough had to help me because I made it with the strongest thing I could find. Papa always told me that you and me are the strongest and not just 'cause we're his girls. I'm not strong like you yet, Tifa, but I want to be."

"You are, Marlene," Tifa told her, reached out and brushed the bangs from her temple. "You are."

Brown eyes looked on contemplatively, then Marlene's dark head tilted, as if she finally understood. "I made your Z from mythril I found in the bar," she declared, opened her fist and showed Tifa the glossy, flat disc. "It took me the longest and was the hardest because it's so  _strong_ , just like us."

"Oh, sweetheart…"

"And then it sort of…broke," Marlene resumed. Her eyes finally left Tifa's and she gazed down at the gleaming creation in her hand. She reached out with her free hand, grasped the separate pieces. "We were carving it and it just broke, right down the middle."

"That's ok, sweetie," Tifa rushed to assure, her, cupping her tiny face. She glanced at the segments, how perfectly the mythril had snapped into two malformed Vs. "That's ok."

But she shook her head. "But wait, Tifa! I'm not done!"

Tifa nodded. "Go on."

"At first I was mad because I thought I had to fix it. But I knew that you wouldn't care if it was broken because you love everything I make, even the cup from school that leaked and you still drinked coffee from it. Really fast."

Tifa grinned, chucked her under the chin. "That's right. It was my favorite because you made it."

Brown eyes became thoughtful again before they glanced behind her, searching. Tifa followed her gaze, found them locked on Cloud who was standing stiffly. He looked so…lonely, so much the outcast little boy she remembered from Nibelheim and something inside of her screamed for him.

She swallowed, waiting for Marlene to finish.

"I only made five," Marlene said again, turning back. "Because it's Daddy and you and Yuffie and Luc and Cloud and that's five. But when your Z broke I knew that I was supposed to give one to the Flower Lady." She nodded, turned back toward Cloud. "And that you and Cloud are supposed to make a Z together."

Tifa felt her mouth go dry, brows gathering in puzzlement. "Marley…?"

Tiny hands held out one half of the shining mythril toward Cloud in offering. "Here you go, Cloud, this is yours." She smiled, waiting.

Tifa watched dazedly as Cloud stood frozen, azure eyes baffled as if he hadn't heard correctly. When Marlene just stood patiently, her prize thrust forward, he hesitantly took a few steps and crouched down beside them, accepting the gift. "I'm…supposed to make one?" he asked, confusion apparent in his features and tone.

Marlene nodded eagerly, pressed the other piece at Tifa who took it reflexively. "Yeah, with Tifa because she has the other half. Try it!"

Her hand unsteady, Tifa reached forward with the end of her mythril segment, watching carefully as Cloud's larger, rougher hand did the same, until the pieces met and formed a perfect, gleaming Z.

"I think Cloud and Tifa are always supposed to make a Z together," Marlene whispered, reached out tiny hands and held them over the two larger ones.

"Oh, Marley," Tifa replied, voice hoarse. Slowly, nervously, she dared to lift her eyes.

Clear blue pulsed at her, pure without that rim of green she'd become accustomed too. Unwavering, the gale of emotions beating within were hard to determine, rising and curving; she couldn't decipher any of them, was too wrapped up in the war of her own feelings.

Something was unfurling inside of her, something bright and deep that had gotten lost somehow, but had opened up to catch her because she was…falling? It was frightening how much it felt like falling.

Falling. Into blue blue  _blue_  eyes.

"The end," Marlene announced, and clapped her hands.

The din gave Tifa the strength to look away and she laughed, the noise sounding suspiciously like a sob.  _What just happened?_  she thought and dropped her hand, found it shaking strangely. What was that queasy feeling in her gut? Fighting her confusion, she reached for Marlene, wrapped her in her arms.

"I love you too much, sweetheart," she whispered, closing her eyes as emotions swirled inside of her like smoke.  _Falling?_

"I love you too much, Tifa," Marlene whispered back, just as fervently and, like her father had earlier, simply let Tifa cling.

_What just happened?_


End file.
